Day 11: Milano Sfaccettata

Well, I had a small adventure with regard to my hotel. It was a listing in one of Rick Steve's guidebooks from 2008. I called in the morning to reserve a room, being sure to ask, "is this Hotel XYZ?" and the man on the phone said that yes, it was, so I made my reservation. When I arrived at the address, the hotel had a completely different name, different management, different prices (though, fortunately, not outrageously so), and fewer of the amenities listed in the book. I'm slightly bitter, but I suppose that that is my karmic retribution for accessing the book via Google Books instead of ponying up for a legal and up-to-date copy.

Also part of my karmic retribution is that the Museo del Duomo was, in fact, closed; the Duomo itself, however, was open as promised, and it was spectacular.



Unlike many other cathedrals in Italy, il Duomo di Milano is built in the Gothic style. It lacks the smooth cupolas and frescoes characteristic of Renaissance architecture, instead opting for jagged spires and angular shapes on the exterior, and an interior that contrasts simple stonework and vividly stained glass.



Construction began in the late 1300s; heavy French influence in the early years is likely the reason for its Gothic design. Napoleon Bonaparte ordered the completion of the façade in 1805, and it was not until 1965 that the last elements of the building were officially completed. Thus, the Milanese dialect has the expression fabrica del dom, "building the cathedral," which figuratively refers to a task that is egregiously long or difficult.



Opinions on the cathedral vary widely, from the eloquent praises of Mark Twain to the damnations of Oscar Wilde.

The interior architecture itself features large but fairly boring columns, some instances of detailed carving over the chapels and niches, and vaulting ceilings without much to offer per se. The stained glass, however, is another story.





The windows depict people and scenes relevant to the Christian faith in shocking color, and when the angle of the sun is right, gray stone is transformed into glowing frescoes.





During November and December, paintings of St. Charles Borromeo by a variety of Renaissance painters are hung along the walkways. The Duomo also houses the largest pipe organ in Italy, a small part of which is visible here on the left.





For a fee, you can climb a staircase to the roof of the cathedral and walk along the north-facing side. (For a slightly larger fee, you can take an elevator.) I recommend it, because otherwise it's essentially impossible to see much of the roof's architecture, including dozens of statues and the Madonnina that sits on the main spire, over 350 feet above ground level.



At the end of the day, I have to side with Mark Twain; I find the array of contrasts in the Duomo's architecture beautiful in spite of its discord. It is a perplexing juxtaposition of solidity and ethereality. Now that I've met my sesquipedalian quota for the week, here's another photo of the façade.



I took a walk around the Duomo district and ended up in Parco Sempione by Castello Sforzesco, a 14th century castle that was once home to the Duchy of Milan, as well as Spanish and Austrian forces in later years. It's full of museums, but--as we've all come to expect on a Monday--they were closed.

Given that tomorrow is not a Monday, it will be a museum day.