Milan

I must admit I would not have believed it would captivate me so much. Those who thought before my departure that they had to say a few canvassing words in favour of Milan nearly all without exception highlighted Italy's largest Gothic miracle, its more than 620-year-old robustly gracious lace colossus. "See the Dome and die," they said. After all, it is such a great experience in itself that if I didn't find anything else interesting in Milan it would be at least worth visiting the cathedral. In my mind I wondered around its ornamental towers in advance, 'visited' its gilded 'La Madonnina' on the top, its white and pink marble statues and imagined, while giddily walking on the roof, I would find myself confronting the great scene of Annie Girardot and Alain Delon from
Rocco and His Brothers. I became so excited I could only be calmed down for a while by olive bread bought in a baker's at the corner of Parco Sempione. As I was approaching, the sight of the lace towers appearing here and there increased my hunger, olive bread or no olive bread. I wanted to devour all - Marco d'Agrate's famous statue of Saint Bartholomew, the astrological signs on the floor, the 11th-century sepulchre of Archbishop Ariberto and the crystal coffin of Saint Charles Borromeo, the city's patron. Curiosity drove me on. I wanted to know whether it would strike me that the cathedral has no bell tower and that it is so large it can hold 40,000 people at the same time.

I ritually stopped short before stepping into the square - after all, if there really was only this much excitement in Milan (it is anyway impossible to get to The Last Supper) then at least let me give the meeting its due. Then I settled on the direction and set off. I calculated if I made 15 steps I would get to the corner of the square, where the whole splendid construction would come into view. So I stepped, but only 12 times because at the 13th step I bumped into a rope cordoning off the area. For a moment I thought whether, for the sake of catharsis, to change my devised ritual and battle against fire and water - and the rope - but decided that nothing may hang on those two or three steps.

So I opened my eyes and the miracle really stood before me in its full glory, shining, in flaming red with its slender arches commanding authority. I am not normally dazzled by cars. Usually I cannot tell one from another, but that flaming red Alfa Romeo Competizione somehow fitted the spectacle so much that the world's second largest cathedral towered above merely as an elegant theatre prop and I simply couldn't resist it. As I was standing in front of the super-duper vehicle, recalling the luxury cars of the 1930s and 1940s and some of the spires of the 14th century lace construction and some of the many thousand statues reflected on its body, I understood what makes this city so European, classical and modern, what makes it so traditional and daring at the same time.

For the first time that day I left my thoughts enraptured by the Dome and opened my eyes not only physically but also symbolically. I looked around and decided I didn't want anything of Milan, except for it to affect me. Following this sudden realisation, the first thing which struck me was the Alfa Romeo's badge. It is a typical Milanese symbol, yet seeing it, Milan would never have come to my mind, though the Visconti snake depicted in a pale blue background was thought of by a young technical department manager at the Alfa Romeo factory as he was waiting at a tram stop and looking at the snake on the Filarete spire. Actually, as if out of the corner of my eye I saw this snake on a tower of the Sforza Palace while I was dashing across the Parco Sempione - but at the time I happened to be occupied with olive bread and Rocco and His Brothers.

What a waste walking in the streets of a strange city deep in thought. How much escapes your eye if you are not alert enough. You can read in the guidebooks that the Rondanini Pietà, Michelangelo's last work, is in the former huge brick fortress of the Sforza Palace, that the Teatro alla Scala, that is the opera house, was built in 1776-78 to replace the former Santa Maria della Scala church and the Viktor Emanuel Gallery by Duomo Square is actually a huge shopping centre, usually referred to as Milan's 'salon', but the tit-bits and hidden connections can only be enjoyed when you yourself become aware of them. Naturally, I don't want to say that it's not worth waiting in the queue to enter the Brera Art Gallery, which houses masterpieces of Italian art by Mantegna, Tintoretto, Veronese, Raffaello and Caravaggio and a library with real curiosities of medieval codices and manuscripts, or book in the Santa Maria delle Grazie church for Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper, yet it may be the case that you could get nearly as much satisfaction from observing the Visconzi snake in the Alfa Romeo emblem and on the Filarete spire.

Or by embarking and going round the city on the legendary Peter Witt tram, named after its designer, which has been ploughing Milan's narrow streets and broad avenues since 1928.

So there on Dome Square I made up my mind to shove aside the expectations and just go ahead and enjoy the city. If a Giorgio Armani, a Prada, a Gucci or a Versace store comes my way, I'll drop in to see whether it's possible to buy a bag for under 1000 euros, and if I come across a contemporary gallery I will study Italy's legendary design. Thus I have overcome my guilty conscience felt for the historic sights, which could be entirely assuaged only by the La Triennale's absolutely entertaining modern art exhibition with some nostalgia for the 1970s, and Peck Milan's old-established and prominent culinary institution. I wouldn't call the latter a shop. It is far more than that - a real gastronomic heaven where the counters, which are at least 20 metres long, are laden with all varieties of cheese and bread, pasta, fish, meat, sweets, fresh and ready-made dishes, fruits, vegetables, oil and sauces. The back corner is a true shrine. The curious are drawn to the huge open kitchen, where an enormous number of chefs and cooks hustle and bustle, while a huge bistro upstairs entices the tempted onlookers as well as hungry tourists.

The place attracted me, but I didn't stay. I had a take-away ricotta and spinach penne, then walked back to the nearby Piazza Duomo and sat down on a step. And while I was finishing the penne, experience inside me was accumulating - the sight of the Duomo reflected on the flaming red Alfa Romeo and the view of the bustle by the corner arcades, as well as the pleasant memory of the reasonably priced Bugatti purse seen in the luxury Via Montenapoleone.

La Scala

Where have all those times gone when you could still show off to the neighbours that you have dropped over to Vienna for the sake of a lovely opera performance or a 'not seen elsewhere' exhibition? In 2008, the committed culturista's horizon spreads much further. Today an open-air Leonard Cohen concert in Lucca doesn't really present any problems, just like an opera performance in La Scala. As the joke goes, the surest way to La Scala is via a lot of practising, yet there are faster and more unfailing ways to get there. The central ticket office is on the Piazza Duomo, but in the evening you can also try to obtain a ticket at the box office in the building of La Scala at 2 Via Filodrammatici. Naturally, anyone can book a ticket to the noted shrine of music online and although a cocktail dress and some affinity for music represent some advantage, the lack of either is no disqualifier.

Transport

Milan has excellent public transport; a ticket costs 4 euros which is valid for 75 minutes, including a change. A block of ten tickets is 9.2 euros, a one-day ticket costs 3 and a two-day ticket is 5.5 euros. Taxis are a bit expensive and rather difficult to catch, since they are not easy to hail in the streets. Malpensa is the busiest of Milan's three airports - that is where Malév flights arrive and from where the Malpensa Express runs to the city.