Italy > From the Cathedral to San Siro

As the train rolls into the station, I find my wallet again. It turns out there’s still a compartment in my new backpack that I hadn’t discovered yet. In Milan, we store our luggage in a locker and hurry to the Duomo. After asking several Milanese people for directions, we finally arrive at the modest area marked on our map. Now we can find our way to the cathedral on our own.

Italy - On the roof of the Duomo

The Duomo is an impressive church, built over more than 500 years. Entry is only allowed with appropriate clothing. We’re all wearing T-shirts with a homemade “lamp shade” made by the girls. The T-shirts and pants were given to us by Monique and Sandra this morning on the train. Ron initially exclaimed enthusiastically, “Hey, you’re wearing the same pants,” but they had diligently made one for each of us as well. All our objections were in vain. For the rest of the day, we look like four American tourists. Back to the Duomo and the “appropriate clothing”: we enter the church, and no one says a word. Of course, we also climb the stairs to the top. It’s a whopping 267 steps to reach the roof of the Duomo. From the roof, there’s a stunning view of the city. In the distance lies our next goal: the San Siro Stadium of AC Milan. On the way to the stadium, we eat an extremely overpriced hamburger. We meet Italians who spontaneously drop their jaws when we tell them we plan to walk to the stadium. “It’s at least two kilometers—that’s definitely a two-hour walk.” After quite a trek, passing through the castle gardens and along the arena, the stadium finally appears.

Italy - The San Siro Stadium of AC Milan

The immense building is too large to fit in a single photo; even the entire parking lot isn’t enough to capture it. Unfortunately, the stadium isn’t open for tours. Afterward, we have to return to the city center. Walking? … No, we take the metro. Back at the Duomo, we search for a real Italian pizzeria. Although Ron would rather visit the local McDonald’s, we stand our ground. But we can’t find any place at all. After asking several police officers for directions, we finally find a small shop after two hours of wandering. Unfortunately, it doesn’t open for another hour. We have no choice but to wait. After eating, we head back to the station. The train has been ready for an hour, so we quickly find our own compartment. It’s more than 30 degrees in the train, but a good spot requires some sacrifice. Just as the train departs, Ron notices that the bottle of dish soap has leaked in his backpack. The result: the bottle flies out the window, and we end up doing the laundry in the train’s bathroom. The five ticket inspectors passing through to Brindisi look rather strangely at the makeshift clothesline in the compartment but say nothing.