When I first planned my journey home from Greece, I intended to spend the entire time in Venice. But a closer look at the flight schedule revealed I would return home with just one day to recover from jet lag; not ideal in the least. That is when opportunity knocked. A quick check confirmed that a train ride to Milan would take less than two and a half hours, so into the itinerary it went.
I had originally planned to depart Milan on a set date, but then I discovered that La Scala was opening Rigoletto the very next night. That sealed the deal. I happily extended my stay by a day—and thanks to a more efficient flight route home, I still arrived back in the U.S. at the same time I had originally planned. One fewer flight, an extra day in Milan, and opera at La Scala? What a coup!
My first high-speed train experience was in Japan, watching Mount Fuji glide past the window as we rocketed down the tracks. This ride felt surprisingly similar only this time the Dolomites lingered in the distance instead. Venice’s main train station itself feels like a step back into the 1930s, an experience before the journey even begins. Arriving early gave me time to sort out a small confusion about tickets (it turns out I bought one for the next station on the line—a classic case of cultural communication differences, but not a big deal to the train's employees). With time to spare, I happily settled in with a burger and fries at Five Guys before boarding. For the first fifteen minutes, I even had the train car to myself; quite an unexpected luxury.
Pro tip: Book a ticket ahead of time using TrenItalia's app. Not only does it save you time at the station, you can get a steep discount, especially if purchasing a ticket for Tuesday-Thursday. I was able to grab a business class ticket for less than the price of a 2nd class ticket doing this. For more tips on navigating Italy's trains, check out this website that I found quite helpful.
The transfer to Milan’s metro was effortless, and stepping off at the Duomo stop was nothing short of jaw-dropping. Emerging from the underground, I looked up to find Milan’s cathedral towering directly in front of me as the stairs end literally in the Duomo square. The city buzzed with energy from tourists snapping photos to street performers entertaining passersby, and the unmistakable excitement of being somewhere special.
After a few quick photos, I made my way to the hotel to unpack. While it appears small, the mattress was very comfortable and the breakfast excellent.
Though it felt late by U.S. standards, Milan was just getting started, so I headed out in search of dinner, especially with an early-morning walking tour waiting for me the next day. I love to eat where the locals eat, so I followed the students to nearby Pizzeria Piz for pizza, tiramisu, and a glass of red wine. The menu is delightfully simple with just three choices: margherita, white, or surprise. Naturally, I chose the surprise, a chef’s choice pizza that is never the same twice!
The Canadians at the table next to me were debating the same gamble and watched my order arrive with hopeful curiosity. When they asked what I had chosen, I offered to swap slices and just like that, strangers became companions. Over shared pizza and easy conversation, we enjoyed one of those small, memorable travel moments that reminds you food is not just nourishment, it is a bridge. Before parting, we toasted to each other's adventures with a complimentary limoncello; the perfect end to an adventurous day.
Despite months of trying, I was not able to secure tickets on my own to see The Last Supper. Even the guides Rick Steves recommends were either fully booked or offered tours far longer than my limited time allowed. Instead, I opted for a city walking tour paired with The Last Supper viewing through a Get Your Guide tour. Thanks to the strict limits on how many visitors may enter the refectory at once, our group was smaller than expected.
One of my favorite parts was discovering where everyone was from: Australia, Jordan, Germany, Japan, and beyond. Leonardo da Vinci has a remarkable way of drawing people together from across cultures, all united by curiosity and admiration. Our guide was from Spain and did not speak Italian, which added yet another international layer to the experience. In the end, the shared languages were English and a love of art, history, and travel.
Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper is nothing short of breathtaking. Passing through the sealed climate-controlled rooms—designed to protect the fragile fresco from further deterioration—I could feel the collective anticipation rise. Our guide explained the painting’s history, its experimental technique, and how it miraculously survived World War II. It is humbling to consider what has been lost over the centuries, yet what remains is profoundly moving. Before leaving, I purchased a high-resolution print to frame back home as a lasting reminder of this extraordinary encounter.
Above: The group looking upon da Vinci's Last Supper
Below: Giovanni Donato da Montofano's The Crucifixion (1495)
When I return to Milan, I will make time to revisit Sforza Castle for a more in-depth exploration. Our walking tour offered a helpful introduction, but my own preparations for the Heart of Italy tour—and a deep dive into the Medici era—had already given me a richer sense of its significance. The Sforza family ruled Milan for generations, wielding formidable military and political power that made them anything but easy to challenge.
Built in the 15th century atop the remains of an earlier 14th-century fortification, the castle evolved from ancient Roman defenses into a Renaissance stronghold. Over the centuries, it has worn many hats: fortress, ducal residence, symbol of power. Today, the castle houses several impressive museums and art collections. Milan itself was once a capital of the Roman Empire, adding yet another layer to the site’s long and complex history.
Artists including Leonardo da Vinci left their mark here, frescoing rooms that once hosted the city’s elite. Standing in the vast central courtyard, it is easy to let your imagination wander: armored knights drilling on horseback, squires learning the art of war, and the ever-present sounds and smells of a heavily garrisoned castle buzzing with daily life.
While I may live in a rural setting, I love getting swept up in the hustle and bustle to feel the true pulse of a city. Milan does not disappoint. One moment you are discovering a hidden medieval garden, the next you are navigating efficient public transportation or braving a perilous street crossing with locals who seem to do it by instinct alone. Everywhere you look, history peeks out between modern life while displaying layered, lived-in, and endlessly fascinating character. I could only imagine the delight experienced by those attending the 2026 winter Olympics in a few months!
Above: Outside Sforza Castle
Below: Careful Crossing the Street!
The streets hum with life, busy with pedestrians weaving alongside trams, buses, and scooters in a well-practiced urban rhythm.
Above: Medieval Courtyard
Below: The Tour Group with our Local Guide
Above: da Vinci's residence while working as an artist in Milan for approximately 20 years. Below: Approaching the Duomo
One surprise for all of us was learning that Milan’s teenagers can drive at an earlier age as long as they are behind the wheel of tiny cars that reminded the entire group of clown cars. I wondered how many they could fit inside like we did into telephone booths when I was a teenager. We had no idea how the Italian teens manage to fold themselves inside, but there was no denying their superpower when it came to slipping into impossibly tight parking spaces.
This grand shopping arcade virtually shouts high-end fashion from every corner and is a feast for the eyes. One hat shop in particular caught my attention, though I knew it would have to wait for another visit; perhaps the next time I return for an opera at La Scala.
At the center of the gallery, visitors happily took turns spinning three times on their right heel atop the mosaic coat of arms set into the floor, each rotation gleefully counted out by onlookers. It is a small ritual, but one that adds a sense of shared delight to the space.
Despite being built of glass, steel, and marble, the structure surprisingly absorbs sound, creating a calm, almost hushed atmosphere beneath its soaring dome. Judging by the animated chatter, a few fashionistas in our group were already plotting a return visit—credit cards at the ready. Our guide played a game of Milan, Florence, or Rome for a number of fashion houses. While not one to dress for trends but instead focus on timeless pieces, I had the highest rate of right answers (though he did surprise me with a few!).
La Scala is a building you might easily pass on Milan’s streets without a second glance, as its understated exterior blends seamlessly into the surrounding architecture. Step inside the story, though, and you are at the epicenter of the opera world. Opened in 1778 on the former site of Santa Maria della Scala (which gave the theater its name), this legendary house has hosted premieres and performances by Toscanini, Verdi, Puccini, and countless others, setting a gold standard for operatic excellence. Our local guide shared a bit of operatic lore: Milan, it’s said, has never forgiven Luciano Pavarotti for his voice cracking on a high B during Verdi’s Don Carlos here in 1996.
As we ended the tour at this location, anticipation was already building for my own evening at La Scala. Just across the street, a graceful square offered a quieter scene: a statue of Leonardo da Vinci surrounded by locals resting on benches, chatting with friends and family beneath trees glowing with autumn color—an everyday Milanese moment set in the shadow of extraordinary history.
At the end of the walking tour, I struck up a conversation with a couple from Australia and discovered we shared the same timed entry for the Duomo. One of those happy travel coincidences quickly turned into lunch together, where we embraced the Milanese classic risotto followed, of course, by espresso. It is always a joy to meet fellow travelers who are eager to embrace adventure and broaden their view of the world.
When it was time, we walked toward the Duomo together. Our tickets led us to different entrances on opposite sides of the cathedral, so we exchanged warm goodbyes and set off on our own, each party following a separate path into one of Milan’s most extraordinary landmarks.
Milan’s Duomo makes its impression in a very different way than the churches I visited in Athens and Venice. Instead of domes and warm tones, this cathedral soars skyward in sharp spires, intricate carvings, countless statues of saints, and glowing white marble veined with pinks, blues, and greys—inside and out. It is the kind of place where details reward a slow look.
This is definitely a site where you will want to buy a timed-entry ticket in advance, sparing yourself a long wait in line. Despite my fear of heights and knowing this visit would push that limit, I opted for rooftop access. It was well worth the price, even if my heart rate climbed along with me.
Within ten minutes of starting the rooftop walk, I heard a familiar greeting: “Hello, stranger! Long time, no see!” My Australian lunch companions had resurfaced to our mutual delight. Together, we edged our way along the roofline, snapping photos for each others while taking in the breathtaking views—some of that breathlessness admittedly coming from my nerves at the sharply pitched roof’s edge! Yikes!
Proud to have faced a longtime fear and handled it better than in the past, I was relieved to return inside the cathedral, where I could continue exploring at ground level and fully appreciate the grandeur of this remarkable place.
Pro tip: Download the app before going inside as the cell phone reception may not be as good once inside the thick stone walls. It was well worth the cost and I was able to use my noise-canceling earbuds, which only served to enhance the experience further.
Above: At the base of these stairs, I realized my fear of heights was about to be seriously tested as we were climbing up, up, and up again.
Below: It took about ten minutes to get my sea legs at this dizzying height, but I eventually made my way gingerly across the rooftop. I spotted one poor woman crawling along the stone rooftop and was impressed she even tempted the climb. The views from this vantage point are spectacular and absolutely worth the occasional racing heart.
Buttresses next to scaffolding where spires were in the process of being cleaned
Details abound in every nook and cranny of the Duomo's façade
Inside, the Duomo invites every visit to look up toward the heavens and evokes the glory of God. The boldly-colored stained glass is intricate and worth the inevitable crick in your neck. I wandered through using the Duomo app, listening to the guided history of location including the rooftop.
The high altar and the holy nail are a feast for the yes. I imagine Notre Dame looked similarly dark inside before its restoration and pictured the gleaming marble with all of its swirling colors that are seen on the outside with the sandblasting seen earlier. While the ceiling is not vibrantly painted like other churches in Italy, its soaring heights with ornately sculpted pillar ornamentation more than makes up for the lack of color.
The high altar from the back of the nave
Above: Christ at the Column, Cristoforo Solari (1510-1520)
Below: Saint Bartolomeo, Marco d'Agrate (1562)
A little gruesome, this statue depicts the saint who was punished for converting King Polymius, his wife, and twelve cities. For this, he was punished, flayed alive (he is carrying his skin on his shoulders), and beheaded.
Left: Altar of the Madonna dell'Albergo
Confessional
Altar of the Madonna dell'Albergo
Baptistry, Pelligrino Pelligrini (1571)
Milan's oldest museum, Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, was just a half-block from my hotel, and with a bit of time between visiting the Duomo and that evening’s opera, I knew it was too close and too compelling to skip. Home to an impressive collection of Titians and the world’s largest holdings of Leonardo da Vinci’s works (primarily his notebooks, sketches, inventions, and mathematical studies), it was an easy choice to squeeze in a visit.
There were no English guided tours available, so I relied on the audio guide instead. The museum was pleasantly quiet in the afternoon, allowing for unhurried wandering. I was grateful for the mild weather, as the building is not temperature-controlled beyond the final large room. Once again, I found myself standing just inches from masterpieces, quietly awed by how these works have endured and continuing to inspire centuries after their creation.
Above: Transito della Vergine, Andrea Mantegna (late 15th Century)
Right: Madonna and Child with Three Angels, Sandro Botticelli (c. 1493)
Left: Holy Frailly with St. Anne and St. John the Baptist, Bernadino Luini (c. 1576)
Below: Enthroned Madonna with Child Between Sant'Ambrogio and San Michele, Bartolmeo Saurdi (c. 1465-1530)
Preparatory Sketch of The School of Athens, Raphael (1509)
Leonardo da Vinci Collection with the Largest Bound Book of His Works in the Lower Right
Portrait of a Musician, Leonardo da Vinci (c. 1485)
Drawings of Catapults, Leonardo da Vinci (c. 1486)
While I grew up listening to and performing classical music, opera was not a regular part of my early repertoire. That changed in college, when I discovered a deep love for it and held season tickets to a local opera house for several years. One opera in particular captured my heart: Rigoletto. There is something about the Italian composers—the drama, the emotion, the sheer musicality—that lifts my spirits and keeps me perched at the edge of my seat from curtain to final bow.
How could I visit Milan—the epicenter of the opera world—and not attend a performance? I packed my lightweight silk dress once again and made my way to La Scala, where I met several fellow travelers from the U.S. who had just finished Rick Steves Europe tours elsewhere. It was a joy to connect with such like-minded travelers in a place that celebrates shared passions so fully.
The interior of La Scala is stunning, and the seats are surprisingly comfortable. One feature I had never experienced before was the individual translation screen built into the back of each seat, offering multiple language options. I chose English, though I found I understood much of the Italian being sung, which made my heart sing in return.
The performance was flawless, as it must be in a house that forgives no mistakes. My local guide had earlier shared the story that Milan still recounts with collective horror: Luciano Pavarotti’s voice cracking on a high B during Verdi’s Don Carlos in 1992, followed by boos at the curtain call—an event that effectively ended his operatic career here and nudged him fully into the world of pop opera and the creation of the Three Tenors. Sitting in that legendary hall, listening to Rigoletto unfold, I felt the weight of that history—and the thrill of being in this monumental theater.
Having never met a stranger, I struck up a conversation with a lovely older gentleman who was also patiently waiting to photograph one of the four composer statues in the lobby. It took a moment to discover which language we shared (he spoke neither Italian nor Spanish and I do not speak German or Russian), but we eventually found our way. He was from Warsaw, Poland, and when I told him I had visited his beautiful country the previous year and that my ancestors were Polish, we developed a quick connection.
We spoke about my love for Poland, and he wept as he told me about the Ukrainian family he is currently hosting with tears in his eyes. He was truly a tender-hearted and kind man. He shared that he was traveling with his family, attending operas across Europe together—a journey rooted in both culture and connection.
When I returned to my seat, we were both surprised to find ourselves adjacently seated. As he passed candy to his family, he handed me a piece as well; I had been unofficially adopted. Together, we delighted in the performance, with them declaring it the best opera of their trip so far, before settling in for the remaining acts.
A quick walk through the streets and a hop onto the Metro, I soon found myself at the airport. I enjoyed the company of my fellow travelers on each leg of the journey and managed to catch some sleep on the transatlantic flight after a pint of Guinness and sticky toffee bread pudding during my layover in Dublin.
Though I experienced a delay on the final flight, I finally arrived home, greeted by a very happy pet. It had been a wonderful journey, but there is nothing quite like the comfort of sleeping on your own mattress at the end of a great adventure.