“Cefalù is best appreciated through that serendipitous decision to go left and not right, through breaking off from the tourist throngs and seeing where your feet or your camera lead you.”
Along Dusty Roads blog
I had just read the above travel note when Dwayne and I did an exploratory walk of Old Town, mapping out an afternoon with the kids. Almost immediately, a random left-then-right brought us down to this medieval washhouse in a hidden corner. My cup runneth over.
I haven’t yet tired of places with old towns, with alleys barely wide enough for a chariot and shop after shop selling either gelato or made-in-China tchotchkes. Cefalù (Chĕff’ uh loo) is a low-key beach town that combines Olde Towne charm, decent beaches, good pizza, a castle-on-top-of-the-hill, and non-lethal Italian driving. And, of course, there’s the requisite duomo (cathedral). We waited until the kids were with us before we bought the full exploration tickets, not at their request.
Topping off their fuel tanks before we explore the duomo behind us. 
The day after Easter, the church was decorated for spring. 
For Liza, and because candlelight is a reasonable symbol for a little extra hope, peace, and goodness in this world. 
A bird’s eye (or upper story) view of the chapel. 
Great views passing the upper walls between the bell towers. 
The sea isn’t too bad either. 
I got to explain my fascination with relics to my children*. 
Not-the-whitest-Baby-Jesus I’ve seen in a nativity scene. This is a compliment, as I search for non-porcelain-skinned Jesus through Europe. I’ve kind of given up on Mary.
Cefalu was supposed to be a relaxing break where I could catch up on my writing and the kids their math, but sitting in a hotel room is anathema: when traveling, what can be done anywhere should be done “not here”. Relaxing is good; exploring is better. Sicily has been great for both!
*I’m not trying to be fully irreverent. Here’s what’s interesting about relics: 1) The precious and expensive vessel it is held in, which can be silver busts, jewel-crusted gold crosses, or anything grand and gawdy, and 2) the body part or sliver of cross/shroud/pillow/nail/thorn entombed in the reliquary. I think it was in St. Marks, Venice, that Jesus’s diaper was listed as a local relic. Most recently, I listened to a Rick Steve’s interview called “An Irreverent Curiosity” about a small town outside of Rome and their claim of Jesus’s foreskin, which eventually led to a pope’s decree about not talking about this delicate piece of His body, except on January 1st, if it must be spoken about at all.
Needopedia 