A Dash into Milano.

Although we have several times landed and taken off from Malpensa airport outside of Milano, we had always steered clear of the actual city, owing to it's reputation for heavy traffic, high prices, and a relative lack of cute and perky tourist attractions. But with 2 nights left to burn before our departure from Italy, we steeled ourselves and went for it anyway. With some late advice and research received via mobile phone from cousin Vivienne (the Casalis lived in Milano for a time years ago) we miraculously found our hotel ( a four-star place with all the amenities) and got our vehicle stowed away in the underground parcheggio. The staff was generally courteous, if not always actually friendly - on par for a big city - but with a change: some of the staff did not actually speak Italian very well, apparently having been hired on the strength of their English (being from Nigeria, or ?)
We were close enough to the our intended places of interest to reach them in a long walk. Despite the busy traffic, it was a welcome relief, actually, to be walking again on wide sidewalks instead of the "pedestrian" streets of Tuscan old towns (where the passing vehicles of residents, officials and businesspeople still force walkers to flatten themselves against walls fairly often).
We hit the Brera Art Museum (very nice) and walked by the La Scala opera house (cool) hung out in the fashion-shopping mecca Via Torino (good people watching) and did the full-official-audio-stick tour of the Duomo (pretty amazing). After a nice lunch we heading back to the hotel; on a side street we found ourselves passing a very upscale, traditional gentlemen's barbershop, and I ended up going for the full treatment: a full head and face shave, with a straight razor. It wasn't cheap, but it was a royal experience.
That evening we sought out a "Mexican" restaurant near the hotel (also Vivienne's tip). The cuisine was a bit off target culturally (my "taco" was delivered as a very nicely prepared thin steak sandwiches between two flour tortillas) but delicious nonetheless. We revealed ourselves as Californians and paid our compliments to the house, and the owner insisted on treating us - and himself - to shots of some rather good tequila at the bar.
The next morning we re-traced our path back to the autostrada and drove out for our final night at a hotel near the airport.