It was a priority to see the Last Supper at the Santa Maria Delle Grazie in Milan. To get the tickets for Last Supper, we have to take a tour. I may have mentioned that I am generally not a tour person. I actually hate them. The Walking tour of Milan started at 8:15 am. Our house is 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 choose the train. Getting five people ready and to the train station by 5:45 is no easy feat. I try to tamp down my need to be early and prepare 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 board the train with no issues and settled in for an uneventful ride. It is definitely preferable to fighting city traffic in the rain.
We arrive in Milan Garibaldi station and transfer to the Metro trains. We only need to travel a few metro stops and then walk a few minutes to the church. Because everything went smoothly, we have extra time on our hands. So, we stop for coffee and pastries. A classic Milanese breakfast.
Once at the church, we wait to meet our guide, who hands us headsets to wear throughout the tour. I reluctantly take mine, not wanting to be part of an oblivious herd. Tours generally force too many people in toolittle space. But since it is the only way to see the Davinci Masterpiece, guided tour it is.
Entering requires showing id, getting a personalized ticket, and waiting in line to go through timed air-locked doors. When it is our turn we enter the dining room of the monastery. The Last Supper is 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 get all of 15 minutes to stare, take photos and wander the large room. There is a lesser known fresco by a different artist on the opposite wall depicting the crucifixion. It is lovely in its own right.
Once out of the dining hall, we enter the church. Until today, I always thought the Last Supper was in the church. Instead, individual chapels line the walls commemorating various saints. I wander away from the group and remove my headset trying to find the peace that I often feel in the quiet of holy spaces. A priest sits down at the organ for his practice period. Soft music fills the space and I feel myself relax. And then just as quickly, it is time to go.
Our guide is serious with occasional bursts of humor. Her advice when crossing the street, “make eye contact, never smile, and look aggressively at incoming traffic.” She tells us she never pays to take her father on tours because he thinks “everything was just old stones.”
She walks through the city at a fast clip and doesn’t turn to see if everyone is with her or not. I guess she gets paid either way. A few older members of the group struggle to keep up. She just marches straight ahead, talking all the while. I am too busy trying not to be trampled or run over by city traffic to notice what she is talking about. It feels ridiculous.
We stop at some Roman ruins. They are unspectacular We stop outside a bakery. She points out that the traditional Milanese cake is “the ugly one.” She points out the shop where people buy food for the holidays. She urges us “don’t waste your money anywhere else”. Occasionally she brings out an iPad and shows us a picture of somewhere we can’t go in. “This is lovely inside. You can’t go in. Only once a year.” It is a forced march to nowhere.
Outside the stock exchange, there is 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, the guide also tells us that the statue somehow is related to the civil war between the facists and the monarchists during WWII. I don’t understand the connection and she isn’t repeating herself. I do catch on that Italy is still trying to recover from their brush with fascism.
We briefly walk through Vittorio Emmanuel Arcade. Like always, thousands of tourists vie for the perfect glamour shot. Our guide tells us “Armani has designed a space suit and that fashion is going to space”. She says she heard each suit would “cost 3 billion dollars” but hoped it wasn’t true.
We cross the rainy plaza to stand in line at the Duomo. Each person that enters had to be wanded down and have their bags searched. The Duomo is cavernous. It is massive and dwarfs the slow moving line. Once inside, we are invited to sit for an orientation lecture.
We here 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 kept high above the altar and is only brought down once a year in an elaborate ceremony . The guide tells 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 walk past tombs of bishops and the crypt of St Charles. We see large canvases depicting the life of St. Charles. Endless marble statues and gold and silver candle sticks are everywhere. Dizzying stained glass lets in diffuse light. Just when I am starting to like our no nonsense tour guide, she announces that her throat is sore and her time is up. Before I can say goodbye, she is gone. We are once again on our own.
