The minute our Milano walking tour guide left us, we were unsupervised in Milan. Relieved to be on our own, I gladly trade in my earpiece speaker. Maybe we won’t know quite as much as a tour guide but we can enjoy sights at our own pace.

Our first order of business is to buy tickets to climb onto the roof of the duomo. Three of us had already experienced the roof walk years ago, but my husband and sister in law had not. It is fascinating climbing among the gargoyles far above the city and we want to share the experience.

While we wait for our timed entry, we examine features in the duomo more closely. A priest sits in a glass box behind a desk. We are not sure why. My fun loving sister in law takes a selfie with the priest and sends it to her children, telling them she met the pope. Their response is underwhelming, which make us giggle like school girls.

The line to climb the roof (in the rain) is shockingly long, considering there is timed entry. Last time I climbed (15 years ago) there was no line and we were virtually alone on the roof. Today’s wait gets even more chaotic when a girl in line behind us suddenly turns grey and has to be held up. An ambulance is called, but by the time it arrives we have started to climb

Once on roof walk, there is a mob of pretty young things posing with pouty lips and pointed toes. Boyfriends are dutifully taking shot after shot of their wannabe models. We just want to see the intricate carvings and marble gables. As we push our way through the crowd, my sister in law blames Tik Tok for the chaos. It is a zoo of people oblivious to their surroundings. The roof is steep and slick in the rain. Having to walk around people pretending to have a high fashion photo shoot in a space that is tight, steep and crowded seems beyond ridiculous. In the sunshine, it would be comical. In inclement weather, it is maddening.

The view (when we can see around and between people taking selfies) is as breathtaking as always. The central roof corridor has hundreds of people on it, making me uncomfortable. I have the same feeling you get when you are on an elevator or boat and they push too many people on. You know you are over capacity but can’t do anything about it. So we wait in line to exit through the door with the single file staircase, while people push past us. I am quite sure we are violating safety codes, but I try not to think about it.

Earlier in another single file line, my husband argued with a line jumper pushing his way past me. He claimed to work “here”, but was obviously a tourist showing the town to a relative. It is hard to watch chaos as people who believe lines are for other people forcibly push in front of those who have been patiently waiting to descend. Eventually, despite the lawless horde, we make it to the ground.

A local friend of my brother has recommended the 12 Gato 🐈‍⬛ (cats) restaurant to us. It is up a secret staircase in the Vittorio Emanuelle building and on the rooftop. A hidden oasis in a sea of crazy, the cozy restaurant is perfect. We lunch on great pizza far away from the crowds. While we are there I sneak out on the highline catwalk. I guess I haven’t spent enough time on roof walks yet. Actually, I was hoping for a view of the 12 cats that lived on the roof. No luck….but I can say I walked on the rooftop of the Vittorio Emmanuel. I didn’t even know that was possible, and unlike the experience at the Duomo, I am the only one on the roof.

Next, we take an aimless walk by gelato shops and high end fashion shops. My husband is fascinated with “Twizzy”, a car that I could fit in my purse. We find several models to peruse along the way, including one that almost doesn’t stop as we cross the road.

We are destined never to see Sforza castle in the sunlight. Each time I have visited, it has rained. Today is only a light drizzle, so we are able to walk the forecourt, the moat, and the porticos and still stay dry. We also walk the adjacent park to see the arch and ruins of the original walls while my husband happily engages in people watching from a bench just inside the castle entrance.

As we make our way across town to the Convent San Mauricio, I see a shoe store my brother has talked about for years. He has said every single time he has visited Milan that he wants a pair of “Harris” shoes, but he never buys them . Today with his wife, his sister, and his sister in law in attendance, he doesn’t stand a chance. We make him try on shoes. We give our opinions. We cajole as he tries to talk himself out of the expense. And he finally gets a pair of hand made, hand painted, Italian leather shoes from Milan. Bellissimo!

Next my sister in law stops to buy an Italian pipe for my brother who couldn’t join us. She searches for the perfect fit. While I don’t care for tobacco, the pipe is a work of art.

Directly across the street sits the convent. The outside of the building is unassuming. It would be easy to walk right by and never notice it is a church. However, inside is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen. To me, it is more interesting and beautiful than either of the churches we had paid to visit. It is free and there are no crowds. Apparently, it is still off the radar. I hesitate even writing about it, because I hope it remains a calm place of contemplation.

The chapel is a riot of paintings of the saints. I don’t know where to look as each surface is covered in pristine fresco . However the magic happens behind the chapel in the nuns walk. An intricate choir is surrounded by frescoes from 1200 to 1500. Noah’s ark, Adam and Eve, and numerous other biblical scenes play out in technicolor. The colors and themes are unique for their time period and each expertly done. It is a true visual delight.

Reluctantly, we make our way to the train station, where I endure the good natured teasing about wanting to see the train departure board. Everyone else is quite content to find a cafe for a snack before boarding. Once we get to the 20 minute mark, I keep sneaking out the door to check to see if our train has been assigned a track. I know logically that 15 minutes is enough time to find a train, but in a new station, I like to know where I am going. I want to make sure I am not running to catch a train. Clearly I am outnumbered. They tease that I am a control freak. My husband says my need to be early makes him anxious. I try to explain that being annoyed is not the same thing as anxiety disorder….and so it goes.

Despite the ribbing, we make our train with time to spare. My companions doze off and on during the one hour trip back to Arona. Once we collect our car, we introduced the group to the Italian Appertivi. You buy a drink and for a small fee you get appetizers (sometimes they are free/in today’s case $2.00 euro). Our table is entirely covered in food. We sip and eat and laugh. Turns out we can have a whole lot of fun unsupervised.