Letter from Milan: Magnificent San Siro but gloomy weather fits mood of travelling Gooners

The distinct, angular muscularity of the magnificent San Siro looks for all the world like a fevered sketch from the pen of Leonardo da Vinci.

San Siro in the Milan mist. Photo: @laythy29

Deep blue windless skies on a gloriously late autumnal afternoon in Lombardy gave way to a forbidding thick mist.

The evening fog settled fast, and was thick, and gloomy. So dense you couldn’t see the snow-dusted jagged Alps that fringe the city of Milan so attractively on a clear day.

Such was the view so poor, and so dull, and so dank, you couldn’t even see across the road.

Yet, as you kept walking through such an ominous setting, she loomed into view.

The distinct, angular muscularity of the magnificent San Siro, looking for all the world like a fevered sketch from the pen of Leonardo da Vinci.

Never has grey concrete been rendered so mighty through a grandiose mixture of stylish curves, and domineering linearity.

Through the low cloud, I had located the 80,018 capacity Stadio Giuseppe Meazza, to give this towering architectural behemoth its full name, host to the storied Inter Milan, and their north London visitors Arsenal.

San Siro on a foggy Milan evening. Photo: @laythy29

The dispiriting weather fitted perfectly the mood of loyal, long-suffering travelling Gooners, all 4,361 of them back to northern Italy once again after September’s trip to nearby Bergamo.

Doggedly following their team in a campaign that feels on the verge of unravelling domestically, despite such a promising start, after an enthralling couple of years when Gunners fans once again could dream of challenging for serious silverware.

In some quarters, a trip to the mighty San Siro to play Inter in the Champions League could be viewed - in a certain misty light of course - as a hopeful respite from the unrelenting pressures of the Premier League.

To make matters worse, Edu, the previously lauded former Invincible, and sporting director, up until Monday at least, had jumped ship. Bailing on a long-term project, just when it required gumption and grit, not a dilettante disappearing act.

Boss Mikel Arteta came out fighting. Or at least refused to fuel headlines, by taking time to generously praise his former colleague in conciliarity tones before the game.

Yet, as if things couldn’t deteriorate any further, the news came through, just as many travelling fans were reaching for their passports, checking bank balances, train times and taxis to the airport – if the fog in Milan allowed them to reach their intended destination - that they would be prohibited from purchasing alcohol once they arrived.

The needlessly draconian measure came after authorities imposed a widespread booze ban on the day of the game in the busiest areas of the city, to quell unfounded fears of violence.

The decision to slap a ban on the sale of drinks from midday to midnight on the day of the match, was announced by Prefect Claudio Sgaraglia on the website of the Italian government, no less.

In this week of all weeks, as the toxic and unseemly US Presidential election finally reached its dreadful climax, no beer and loathing on the Champions League trail was most definitely not what Arsenal fans required.

The sanction covered the elegant centre of this beguiling city, which included the Piazza Duomo, the public area in front of the mesmerising marble clad façade of the cathedral that was initially begun in 1372.

Yet, talking to travelling Gunners fans at Malpensa Airport, stuck in an interminable queue following a strike by train workers - which saw the cancellation of all rolling stock from the airport to the heart of this normally efficient northern Italian industrious hub - the feeling was similar to how they viewed their heroes in red and white: not ideal, but not as bad as some portrayed it.

As Ben, an engaging 30-year-old on his first trip abroad to follow Arsenal, told me: “I’m sure we’ll find a way to get a drink. We’re normally good at that sort of thing,” he insisted with endearing certainty.

Indeed, stories abounded of enterprising fans immediately booking ‘meetings’ in the back rooms of compliant bars, where ‘discussions’ included as many beers as you could drink before kick-off.

Prior to the debilitating mist engulfing the city, the day had been sunny, allowing a leisurely stroll around the Castello Sforzesco.

A handsome fortification in which, apparently, da Vinci designed the castle’s defences, while a few centuries later Napoleon drained the moat. The centrepiece, a robust high tower built in 1447, also had da Vinci’s frescoes decorating its elegant pavilions.

Heading past the playful water fountains, a statue of the fabled Garibaldi, which if my History A Level served me correctly, was a hero of the Italian Risorgimento, or unification, helping create the Kingdom of Italy.

He was also a revolutionary and a republican. No wonder, even after nearly two centuries, he remains Italy’s greatest national icon.

I liked him when studying his exploits all those years ago. And I liked him now, looking up at an elongated marble plinth, Garibaldi on his horse striding majestically towards the future Italy.

Garibaldi statue Milan. Photo: @laythy29

My path led me to the stunning neoclassical Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. One of the world’s most beautiful shopping arcades, if that isn’t a misnomer. Dripping with designer shops, the best views are free if you look upwards and gaze at its incredible iron and glass structure.

Nearby was the Duomo, which allows for one of life’s great unsung pleasures. To simply sit and watch it change colour, as the glorious autumnal light gradually faded.

If you haven’t seen Milan’s cathedral, I’d humbly suggest you visit and take in its stunning majesty.

That and the San Siro. But only if you can find it through the relentless fog, forecast for another three days here in marvelous but misty Milan.