Attractions

Though it's overshadowed by the goings-on in Venice, Milan's pre-Lenten Carnevale is becoming increasingly popular, with costumed parades and an easygoing good time, much of it focusing around Piazza del Duomo beginning a week or so before Ash Wednesday. Milan's biggest holiday, however, is December 7, the feast of its patron saint, Sant'Ambrogio (St. Ambrose). Those who don't leave the city for their sacrosanct day off generally spend the afternoon wrapping their mittens around a hot vin brule at an outdoor fair in, you guessed it, Piazza Sant'Ambrogio. Just before the city shuts down in August, the city council stages a series of June and July dance, theater, and music events in theaters and open-air venues around the city; call tel. 02-8646-4094 for more information.

Milan in a Day--For an excellent overview of the city, hop aboard tram no. 20, distinguished by CIAO MILANO emblazoned on its sides, for a tour with commentary in English and five other languages. The 1-hour-and-45-minute tours run daily at 11am and 1pm (also 3pm in summer) and start at Piazza Castello (Metro: Cairoli); the cost is 20€ ($25). For more information, call tel. 02-3391-0794.

Combo Ticket--There is a combination ticket for admission to the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, Museo del Duomo, and the Museo Diocesano that costs 12€ ($15). It can be purchased at any of the participating museums.

Strolling Through Milan

The prime spot for a passeggiata (stroll) is the Piazza Duomo and the adjoining Galleria, but many of the neighborhoods that fan out from the center are ideal for wandering and looking into the life of the Milanese. The Golden Quadrilateral (the city's center for high fashion), just north of the Piazza Duomo on and around Via Montenapoleone, is known for window-shopping and trendy cafes and bars; Magenta is an old residential quarter, filled with some of the city's most venerable churches, west of Piazza Duomo (follow Via Orifici and its extension, Via Dante, toward the Castello Sforzesco); the Brera, a parcel of once-seedy, now-gentrified Milan, filled with bars and inexpensive restaurants along the streets clustered around the Pinacoteca Brera (follow Via Brera from the Teatro alla Scala); and the popular Navigli neighborhood, at the southern edge of the center city, a series of narrow towpaths running alongside the remaining navigli (canals) that once laced the city, the former warehouse entrances along them now housing hopping and unpretentious bars, birrerie (pubs), restaurants, and small clubs in the city (take the metro to Sant'Agostino). A stroll in Milan almost always includes a stop at a cafe or gelateria .

Last Shoe Shine in Milan

Charging less than 2€ ($2.50) per customer and spending a lifetime bent over wingtips, the average shoe shiner has few illusions about a career of fame and fortune. But while fortune may never find Carlo Santacroce, fame, it seems, has arrived on his footrests. If the TV shows and newspapers are correct, Santacroce is the last surviving shoe shiner in Milan.

Throughout his 30-year career in the city, he has seen Southerners like himself carrying stools from one street corner to the next, only to be told by police that shoe shining is not allowed on the sidewalks. The peddlers were told to work out of a storefront, an expense that few could afford. Now that the market has dried up -- even Santacroce's celebrity customers no longer stop by -- competition has disappeared, and he serves the city's well-heeled on his own.

His chair and footrests sit by the restrooms in the Palestro subway station, in a space he rents from the city's transportation agency. A hand-written sign announces his offerings: 1.85€ ($2.30) for shoes, a few cents more for boots.

"I had one single customer today," he says, flashing his index finger. "In Naples, when I was growing up, there'd be a long line for a shine. Now people do it on their own. Those hotel machines," he sniffs, "they only brush off the dust."

As a child, Carlo made a living in post-war Naples by polishing U.S. soldiers' boots. He knows his leather. From the condition of the material, Santacroce can guess when the shoes were purchased and what the wearer does for a living. Still, the dapper-dressed 74-year-old professes, with the proper maintenance, even the lowest underling can look like the boss. "My father once told me, and I'll never forget this, if someone has a clean-shaven face, wears a tie, and his shoes are well polished, he's a signore, even if he doesn't have a lira in his pocket."