The streets of Palermo are deserted. The food markets that, yesterday, were filled with tanned noisy locals, vegetables from Sicilian farms and fresh fish from the Tyrrhenian Sea are now silent littered alleys. No shops are open. No people walk the shady streets. It is Sunday in Catholic Italy.

The problem was, I had written down the address, but I didn’t have it on me.  I thought I did. I was sure I knew where I was going.  That’s the strange thing about all of this.  One can feel so confidently on target, yet one is lost.  Maybe it’s hard for you to believe that on my first trip to Europe I lost my destination.