我们也不急不躁，因为我们就将离开，雨，把它留下来也不相干了。
计划是九点钟的巴士将会出现把我们带走，雨或不雨和我们无关；只是九时十分了，绿色的巴士没出现，雨，眼看就快来了，而我们开始察觉事情有点蹊跷。走到服务柜台，询问一下，果然与事故碰个正着。
巴士不会出现了，巴士公司也没预先通知取消的讯息，那时已经就快九点半了。我愣了一下，想一想：现在可好，米兰要如何去呢？然后我想起那位台湾健行客昨天告诉我他去米兰的行程，那一刻他却从刚抵达的市区巴士走下来。
我抓住了他，唯一的救星。
八小时过后，我们三人一起抵达米兰总站。
本来是三个小时半左右的交通路程，现在乘搭大巴从Chamonix到Geneva机场，然后乘搭火车到Geneva火车站，跳上两点左右的火车从瑞士越界驱入意大利，为了一个米兰，我们进出三个国度。
雨，在我们离开的时候还没下，在踌躇着。
离开之后，下或没下，已不再是我们关心的疑题。
在火车里，我关心的是几点会抵达米兰，更关心的是米兰会不会下雨，因为火车在瑞士一路飞驰的时候，雨，下着，不断的一直下着。
我看着窗镜上那交叉倾斜的水线，心，就凉飕飕的，到底想看一眼米兰大教堂的机会有多细微呢？
我看大教堂的唯一窗口就只是抵达后的那一两个小时，不能拖太久，之后还要入住预订的AirBnB, 隔天还得起个早身，前往翡冷翠的绿色大巴是八点。
又是绿色大巴，想着，心就冷了半截。
火车预测六时左右抵达米兰，我有点愧疚地向朋友建议：拖着行李先去看大教堂，然后才回去夜宿的地方，朋友很有义气，他说：可以。
但真的可以吗？看着雨珠在窗外狂飞的气势，我却踌躇着，疑虑加重。
然后我又对朋友说：如果下大雨，看大教堂就拉倒。
结果，我还是看到了大教堂。
意大利规模最大的米兰大教堂，在我们拖背着沉甸甸的行李走上Duomo地铁站的梯级时，那个淡淡粉红的白色云石一段一段地浮上来。
当我跨上最后一级，站着，视线正面和大教堂的整幅外观碰击的那一霎那，我的心，狠狠地抽抖一下，愣在那儿，须臾之后才顿然回神。
汹涌的人潮把我凝止得无法动弹的情绪击碎，震醒，我才惊觉自己终于亲眼目睹了米兰大教堂。
其实我没呆太久，时间的局限其实只是原因的一部分，骚动的人海也只是原因的一小部分，最大的部分是我单单只对大教堂的一面外貌就无法形容，更何况要我描述，我所能看到的就只是那些仿佛在半空中翔游的雕像，白中透红的云石尖角或圆滑的弯曲，那些一板一刀鑿刻出来的雕砌的立体图案。
我能看到的只是这一些，因为它的庞巨面积，我无法眇视它的全貌，如果连相机的镜头都无法把它全面捕捉成一张完整的影像时，我又要如何把它以有限的词汇来巨细靡遗地细数，描绘与书写下来呢？
所以我只是穿越人群的拥挤来到它的面前，近距离地凌碎，零散地移动着视线，对文字的坚持我只好放弃，词穷令我尴尬而无奈，尽管我还是按了几次相机，到底摄了什么，摄了哪里，我只感到一股叫人气馁的无力感。
我回头寻找朋友的身影时，在暮色的尽头，天空渐渐累积了滚滚灰云，第一响雷声郁闷地断裂传来。
雨，最终还是下了，当我们吃完晚餐之后走出来的时候，看见濡湿的卵石块上反射着银白的水光。
然而，雨或不雨，已不重要，因为自己还是碰到了米兰大教堂，即使是那么短暂，即使看到的只是它那张魁伟得足于震慑深心的脸膛，对我来说已经是足够了，足够得自己的视觉容量已经无法负荷。
人生里，毕竟缺角太多，瑕疵太多，完美太少，那又何必强求美满呢？
我们在雨中离开，我举起相机拍了最后一张夜里燃灯的容颜，走远的时候，我似乎感到芒刺在后，我知道，米兰大教堂正以嘲謔的目光睥睨地目送我离去…………。
Once I genuinely thought my chance of seeing Milan’s Duomo was razor-thin like a sheet of paper, when we were muddled by the uninformed cancellation of a bus trip from Chamonix to Milan; even when we scrambled to embark on the train from Geneva to Milan, I genuinely thought the seemingly endless interminable rain that pelted the window panes would somehow land a final blow to my wish.
The wish to stare at the Duomo of Milan with my own very eyes.
The train ride was an impromptu backup trip that we undertook after FlixBus indiscreetly canceled our 9 a.m. bus from Chamonix. The scheduled late afternoon arrival already shaved off a huge chunk of my hope to visit the Duomo, the heavy rain aggravated the already dire straits situation.
The cancellation turned my one afternoon sojourn in Milan into a few hours of transit as I had to catch an 8 a.m. bus to Florence the next morning. The window break was too brief and I couldn't afford to suffer further delay, either by the train or rain. Then I made a verbal pact with my friend: “We reach Milan Centrale and with the luggage, straight we go and visit the Duomo.” Then I looked at the raindrops on the window of the moving train and said:” If it rains too heavily, we just scrap it.”
Cryptically, defying the weather forecast, the rain slowly faded away when the train entered Italy, and by the time it harbored its weary engines next to the platform, there was no sign of any rain at Milan Centrale. I was jubilated, and with a few hours to spare, we hurried to locate the metro station and hopped on the train heading to Duomo Stop.
With the cumbersome luggage, we squeezed our way out from the carriage packed with rushed-hour commuters, then we slowly ascended a flight of stairs, and slowly, the top part of the facade ascended in tandem as well, adhering my eyesight level, the entire creamy white facade of Milan Duomo erected right in front of me when I landed on the last step.
I was momentarily stunned, I had seen this image before in photos, documentaries, movies, etc., but to stand still right on her face amidst the bustling itinerant crowds for the first time, the feeling was beyond surreal, like a dream came true, I lost all words to depict the sensation which hit me point-blank, it felt hollow but at the same time, complex and multi-layered.
Then I did what a tourist would inevitably do, taking some photos and certainly inserted myself in a few of them, nevermind the ever-shifting tourists who shared my precious momentous joy, but I sensed a huge conundrum to get even a decent shot of the duomo due to either the massive scale of the facade or the disruptional human’s trail that intruded my composition, or both, I finally gave up further shooting and approached her close-up.
Then I realized it was an impossible mission to embrace her in entirety with the lens I had, so was with the scope of my vision, it was too small to just look at her in whole. Hence, I could only wildly waft my eyesight on certain elements individually, those solemn doors of green bronze, the ornately carved frescoes on the wall, the piers, piedroits, and columns; then each and every statue which seemed to be afloat in the air, and finally, those impressive high spires where a human-size stone statue stood on each of them.
As the fading light at dusk alarmed me of the time constraint, I left and turned to look for my friend who seemed to be as zealous as ever even though it was his second visit. When we entered the adjacent humongous medieval building to look for dinner, I had a glimpse of the dense rolling clouds in the sky, then followed by a low muffling noise of a distant thunder.
The rain came, after all, in Milan, the very center of the city where every street edged its way to converge, and when we re-emerged from the building after our dinner, I took one last shot of the Duomo’s face under the night lights. As brief as my encounter with the Duomo turned out, I didn’t have a tad of reluctance to leave, I could feel how she scornfully sneered at my back as I walked away, but I was not to be intimidated or belittled, because I knew I would surely return in the future to square off by setting my gaze at her again.
