The first time I stepped into St. Peter’s Cathedral in the Vatican, I remember feeling overwhelmed by its beauty. The domed ceiling was so immense, so beautiful, so adorned with murals from master artists and tons of marble, gold and other precious materials, that for a few precious moments I found myself dumbstruck. When I write about it now, even though I’ve forgotten much about what the ceiling actually looked like, I still remember that feeling.

On the geographical map of Italy, at the bottom of the peninsula, lies the island of Sicily, which looks like a football being kicked away by the boot of the Italian peninsula. This might be the heartfelt wish of some Italians, mainly because of the island’s historic link with the mafia. I live in a quiet little village of Sant’Ambrogio, just five kilometres from a bustling tourist town.