Italian Journalist Reveals: “What Really Makes Italy’s Villages Special Is Their People

In my career as a journalist, I’ve been fortunate enough to travel extensively, telling the story of Italy from north to south. I’ve seen breathtaking landscapes, witnessed extraordinary rituals, and tasted foods I will never forget. And yet, these are not the things I think of when I’m asked what truly makes Italian villages special.

Perhaps it's a professional instinct, but when I tell the story of a place, I always look for its stories. And stories belong to people. When I was asked to host the first edition of Luminous Destinations, to be held at BIT Milan, Italy’s most important tourism fair, on February 10, 2026 (editor’s note), I said yes immediately, without hesitation. This project reflects who I am and the way I look at Italy. Today, it feels urgent to tell the story of an authentic Italy—not a postcard-perfect country, but a real one, made up of people who endure, protect, and pass on their heritage.

Being part of Luminous Destinations means giving a voice to those who often remain on the margins of mainstream tourism narratives. It means recognizing that light is not just visibility, but presence. And in this moment in time, being there truly matters.

I didn’t learn to understand Italy by standing still. I understood it by moving through it, returning to the same places over and over, listening to the people who live there every day. My work as a journalist—from local newsrooms to RAI, with programs dedicated to territories and local communities such as Linea Verde—has led me to know places by collecting their stories. Small episodes, sometimes invisible, yet capable of holding a place together far more than any postcard ever could.

Over the years, I have met forest rangers who speak to trees as if they were old friends, women who preserve ancient rituals as if they were family memories, entire villages that recognize themselves in a shared gesture. Telling their stories meant saving narratives that risked disappearing, and I felt a responsibility to do so.

From these experiences comes a conviction that still guides me today: it is the people who give meaning to a place. Ancient churches, medieval streets, seas and mountains remain scenery unless life flows through them. It is connection, not landscape, that makes a village unforgettable. It is the encounter that transforms a trip into an experience. And traveling, if done deeply, becomes a way to connect with those who love, protect, and bring these places to life every day.

What follows is not the classical touristic itinerary. It is a collection of notes, fragments of encounters that have left a mark on me. Every village I have crossed in my personal and professional journey held a unique story, knowledge that could not be replicated elsewhere.

This is why I want to take you on a journey that starts from my roots and spreads across Italy’s quieter corners. Places that shine because someone chose to stay, care, and keep believing.

From Castelfranco Veneto, where it all began, to Matera, Sedilo, Veroli, and Palmarola, each stop tells the same story in different ways: humanity is what transforms a place into a destination. Light does not come from grandeur—it comes from dedication. From the daily passion of those who inhabit these villages as if they were living a story to be passed down. 

Castelfranco Veneto is where I was born and where I learned to observe. A fortified village with a medieval castle still defining the historic center, Piazza Giorgione opening as a meeting space, and a landscape that changes within a few kilometers—from the plains to the Prosecco hills, to the Venetian lagoon and the Dolomites.

But more than the architecture, I remember the people. Daily life within the walls, the sense of belonging, the care for what is passed down. It was here that I understood that a village shines not for what it shows, but for what it protects.

Matera, the oldest city in Italy, seems carved into memory itself. The Sassi, the rock-hewn churches, the stone that carries centuries of life intertwined with the rock. Yet what struck me most is the collective strength of its rituals.

During the Festa della Bruna, the triumphant cart is first venerated and then literally stormed by the crowd, once the Madonna statue has been safely placed. Every fragment taken becomes a token of protection for the year ahead. It is not destruction—it is participation. It is a gesture showing how a community still recognizes itself in a shared symbol.

Veroli, in the heart of Ciociaria, is a village that lives through human connection. When I presented my book here, the women of the town organized a meal for everyone. But what really struck me was another gesture: they printed the book’s cover and placed it, held by a toothpick, on each plate.

A simple gesture, but incredibly powerful. A way of saying: you are part of us. At that moment, I realized that a village’s true wealth is its capacity to care.

In the heart of Sardinia, Sedilo preserves one of the island’s most intense traditions: the Ardia di San Costantino. A frantic horse race around a small church, preceded by days of preparation, silence, and focus.

Here, the relationship between humans, animals, and the land is still sacred. It is not folklore for tourists—it is lived identity. Sedilo taught me that traditions remain luminous only when they are supported by a community that feels them as its own.

Palmarola, among the Pontine Islands of Lazio, is a rugged, wild island without compromise. Rocks sculpted by the wind, sea caves, waters that change color with every hour of the day. Yet its true light lies in the fragile balance that those who live there strive to protect.

Here, silence is not absence—it is respect. Far from crowded routes, Palmarola teaches that even subtraction can be a form of care.

Reflecting on Italy and this journey, I have a simple image in my mind: a boat at sea, a fisherman pulling up his net with his grandson. An everyday scene, yet timeless.

That net is a metaphor. It is made of fine threads, woven by the people who inhabit the places. Every gesture, every relationship, every act of care becomes an essential knot. No single thread can hold alone, but together they bear the weight and make the catch possible.

It is only together that the effort is supported; it is only together that we bring home what truly matters.

At the heart of every Luminous Destination lies this truth: no one thrives alone, and no place can shine without the people who, day after day, choose to keep it alive.