It was a priority to see the Last Supper at the Santa Maria Delle Grazie in Milan. To get the tickets into there Last Supper, we had to take a tour. I may have mentioned that I am generally not a tour person.The walking tour of Milan started at 8:15 am. Our house was at least one hour from the tour meeting location. To get there on time, we need to either drive to Milan in the rain and find parking or take the 6:05 train out of Arona.

We chose the train. Getting five people ready and to the train station by 5:45 was no easy feat. I tried to tamp down my need to be early and prepared for my husband and brother to make fun of my transportation anxiety. It can only be remedied by being reasonably early and in sight of the departure board. We boarded the train with no issues and settled in for an uneventful ride. It was definitely preferable to fighting city traffic.

We arrived in Milan Garibaldi station and transferred to the Metro trains. We only needed to take a few metro stops and then walk a few minutes to the church. Because everything went smoothly, we had extra time n our hands. So, we stopped for coffee and pastries. A classic Milanese breakfast.

Once at the church, we waited to meet our guide, who handed us headsets to wear throughout the tour. I reluctantly took them, not wanting to be part of an oblivious herd. Tours generally force to many people in to little space. But since it is the only way to see the Davinci Masterpiece, then guided tour it is.

Entering required showing id, getting a personalized ticket, and waiting in line to go through timed air-locked doors. When it was our turn we entered the dining room of the monastery. The Last Supper was painted on the wall of the dining room opposite the kitchen. The heat from the kitchen did a lot of damage over the years. At one point the monks chopped off the bottom of the painting (and Jesus’s feet) to enlarge the kitchen door. Seems ridiculous to us, but apparently someone was tired of ducking under the doorway.

We got 15 minutes to stare, take photos and wander the large room. There was a lesser known fresco by a different artist on the opposite wall depicting the crucifixion. It was lovely in its own right.

Once out of the dining hall, we entered the church. Until today, I always thought the Last Supper was in the church. Instead, individual chapels lined the walls commemorating various saints. I wandered away from the group and removed my headset trying to find the peace that I often feel in the quiet of holy spaces. A priest sat down at the organ for his practice period. Soft music filled the space and I felt myself relax. And then just as quickly, it was time to go.

Our guide was serious with occasional bursts of humor. Her advice when crossing the street, “make eye contact, never smile, and look aggressively at incoming traffic.” She told us she never paid to take her father on tours because he thought “everything was just old stones.”

She walked through the city at a fast clip and didn’t turn to see if everyone was with her or not. A few older members of the group struggled to keep up. She just marched straight ahead, talking all the while. I was too busy trying not to be trampled or run over by city traffic to notice what she was talking about.

We stopped at some Roman ruins. They were unspectacular We stopped outside a bakery. She pointed out that the traditional Milanese cake was “the ugly one.” She pointed out the shop where people buy food for the holidays. She urged us “don’t waste your money anywhere else”. Occasionally she would bring out an iPad and show us a picture of somewhere we couldn’t go in. “This is lovely inside. You can’t go in. Only once a year.” It was a forced march to nowhere.

Outside the stock exchange, there was a marble statue of a raised middle finger. Apparently the Milanese are still upset about the severe economic downturn and stock market losses of the early 2000’s and have enough of a sense of humor to make public, their private sentiments. At this point, she also told us that the statue somehow was related to the civil war between the facists and the monarchists during WWII. I didn’t catch the connection. But Italy is still trying to recover from there brush with fascism.

We briefly walked through Vittorio Emmanuel. Like always, thousands of tourists were vying for the perfect glamour shot. She told us Armani had designed a space suit and that fashion was going to space. She said she heard each suit would “cost 3 billion dollars” but hoped it wasn’t true.

We crossed the rainy plaza to stand in line at the Duomo. Each person that entered had to be wanded down and have their bags searched. The Duomo is cavernous. It is massive and dwarfed the slow moving line. Once inside we were invited to sit for an orientation lecture.

We heard how St. Charles, (Carlo Borromeo) carried a nail from the true cross through the streets of Milan to combat the plague. The nail is now keep high above the altar and is only brought down once a year in an elaborate ceremony . She told us about Andrea Bocelli singing alone in the Duomo during Covid while the nail was lowered as a symbol of hope. I watched the televised concert but did not understand the symbolism as it was happening. I wish I would have known.

We walked past tombs of bishops and the crypt of St Charles. We saw large canvases depicting the life of St. Charles. Endless marble statues and gold and silver candle sticks were everywhere. Dizzying stained glass let in diffuse light. Just when I was starting to like our no nonsense tour guide, she announced that her throat was sore and her time was up. Before I could say goodbye, she was gone. We were once again on our own.