L'AQUILA, Italy - It’s a dirty little secret among the journalists here: What would we do without Silvio? His perpetual personal scandals are the only spark of this summit.

Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd talks to German Chancellor Angela Merkel behind U.S. President Barack Obama at the G-20 summit.

Please forgive the "watching paint dry" cliché, but that’s exactly what most of these summits are like.

The G-20 a few months ago in London was refreshingly different. But after a couple days at this Italian G-8, the cliche is back to haunt us all.

In terms of relevancy, the G-20 set a new standard in not just consensus, but practical policy. The sheer scale and scope of the crisis cut through the usual grinding negotiations and there was real action on stimulus, financial oversight, trade and more money for the World Bank and International Monetary Fund.

But this summit has gone back to the same old slog, a fog of declarations and details that amount to sound and fury signifying something that won’t happen for months, even years.

The issue of climate change is a perfect example of what is sure to make this summit forgettable.

Going into the summit, environmental groups and eager policy hawks were optimistic, hoping this meeting could break new ground on climate change.

But within hours it was clear that any concrete progress would have to wait until yet another meeting at the end of the year in Copenhagen.

Greenpeace was especially critical saying it had hoped for more leadership at this summit, especially from U.S. President Barack Obama.

“I don't think President Obama has gone much further than Clinton. It's easy to compare him to Bush, who denied the science. The big problem now is President Obama actually accepts the science. He accepts this is a big problem and still he's doing very little to nothing to lead on the issue. I don't know what's worse: Not believing in it and not doing anything, or knowing how bad the problem is and not doing anything,” said Phil Radford of Greenpeace USA.

After seeing an advance copy of the declaration, it was clear it would be even more diluted than first thought.

There are no set goals for decreasing emissions, just a promise to decide on one by the end of the year.

As with so many issues on the table at this summit, and there is quite a laundry list, there is very little substantive policy development taking place and very little detail I is on offer.

Just a few years ago that might have been acceptable. Not today.

Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi is hosting this week's G8 summit.

The pressing issues of the economy and climate change are a big talking point not just at summits but at dinner tables around the world.

Many here were hoping for more than the usual declarations and photo-ops that litter these summits.

 L'AQUILA , Italy – All morning people have been streaming through the gates of the police academy here in the outskirts of L'Aquila. Even once the funeral mass had begun they kept on coming.

An Italian man kisses the coffin of a dead child.

To my right now, as the strains of the psalms fill the air, a family hug each other, tears streaming down their faces. I can't see what's going on inside. Our live shot position is in front of the building. But our Italian producer, Sheri, descibed the scene to me before the service began: 202 funeral caskets, one of them, tiny. Probably that of the youngest of the 287 victims of this tragedy – a little boy, not six months old.

Friends and family walking through the coffins, their last chance to say goodbye to loved ones torn from them by the violence of nature.

It's almost amazing that people hold on to their faith after an event like this. But that's Italy, where Catholicism still holds sway with many.

For these people who've lost everything, their faith is all they have left. Rather than blame God they thank him – that they are still alive.

It lends them an amazing dignity. And as they stream out you can truly believe their faith will give them the strength to continue with their lives.

L'AQUILA, Italy - During the daytime the camps which house those made homeless by the earthquake appear fairly cheerful places. The sun shines, children throw balls and play with toys, clowns roam up and down the rows of tents injecting their little bit of fun, people sit outside the tents reading the papers. But this is the daytime.

Survivors of this week's Italian earthquake are living in tented villages and asking when they can return home.

At night, it is bitterly cold. There are whole families of 12, if not more, crowded into the tents, wearing the same clothes as they were wearing four days ago when the earthquake struck. They are cold and the aftershocks bring panic. When you look at their eyes in the mornings, they are red and bloodshot, all on the verge of tears. All the time.

We were in the camp registration tent earlier when a man came in and began shouting. He wanted to get back into his home, he asked why couldn't he just collect his things? The aid worker replied: "Thirty-thousand people want to get back into their homes, what can I do?"

I asked a lady I'd profiled in a report on Wednesday whether she'd managed to sleep last night. "How can I sleep when the earth won't stop moving?" she said.

People say they are being well looked after. I've seen handouts of all sorts of Italian delicacies - the finest buffalo mozarella, panettone... Only in Italy, I thought.

The toilets and shower facilities are as clean as they can be in a camp which houses more than 1,000 people. There are medical tents and pharmacies on site, psychologists offer walk-in services, an order of Franciscan monks arrived this morning to provide spiritual support. They're having to sleep in one tent too: their monastery was damaged in the quake.

But the misery here is profound and the grief will go on. Tomorrow many of the victims will be buried in a mass funeral. It's Good Friday tomorrow. A terrible Easter for so many thousands of people in this deeply Catholic country.

NAPLES, Italy - If you've enjoyed a visit to the beautiful Italian island of Capri in the last decade, what you probably didn't realize is that about 30 miles away in Naples there is a quite different world to be discovered - one where luxury is simply a hot meal or a clean bed to sleep in.

Police at a protest against the killing of six immigrants near Naples.

This week we traveled to the towns of Castel Volturno, Caserta and Casal di Principe, north of Naples, the stronghold of a very powerful mafia clan which has recently gone on a killing spree that left, among others, six African immigrants dead.

This was a clear message, according to investigators, to those who try to trespass on the territory and business interests of the mafia: Racketeering, drug trafficking and prostitution. In this case the recipients were the illegal immigrants in the area who account for one quarter of the local population and form a fertile open air recruitment agency for illegal activity of all kinds.

The coastline of this area has the potential to be a fabulous beach resort, but as you drive down its main street, called the Domitiana, it's easy to see something has gone terribly wrong.

The street is banked by broken and dusty sidewalks. Garbage is scattered or piled up around smelly garbage bins - the leftovers of a garbage crisis that gripped Naples earlier this year and still appears to be a problem.

Once quaint hotels have become rundown shacks with walled-in ground floor doors and windows. They are now hangouts for local drug addicts and greedy pushers. At one, a pool in the back was filled with garbage. According to one immigrant we spoke to, it was also filled with syringes.

The lack of people walking around is evident, it's a bit like the old Western movies when there is a shootout about to happen. Every so often an African immigrant can be seen walking through the area, but otherwise, there are no signs of normality.

The Italian government has decided to send 400 extra police personnel and 500 soldiers to the area. The result is the presence of road blocks every few kilometers, with policemen or Carabinieri (the military police) armed to the teeth. Watch our report here

When, after a long day of work we were about to leave the hotel for dinner in a nearby restaurant, the hotel clerk offered his two cents. With a big smile on his face and the typical Neapolitan fun-loving attitude, he suggested we accept a ride from the hotel security car. Both there and back.

All this, just 30 miles from Capri.