Wycieczka audio po Sassari: Echa szlachty, świętych i kamienia

Here you are, standing in front of the historic headquarters of the Provincia di Sassari-a place where the fate of northwestern Sardinia has been steered for over 160 years. Now, if you feel a slight breeze, that’s not just the Mediterranean wind! That’s the whisper of a thousand debates, a parade of reforms… and maybe even a couple of grumpy politicians who just wanted their coffee break. Picture this: it’s 1859. The Kingdom of Sardinia is anxious, Italy is almost about to unite, and Sassari is picked as the seat of one of the island's largest provinces. Its domain stretches from wild, rocky coasts to rolling mountains, from the golden sand of Platamona beach to the dramatic heights of Pattada-complete with eagles who probably fancy themselves as public officials. The province’s reach was so enormous, by 2016 it had ballooned up to covering more land than any other province in Italy! That’s a lot of territory to keep track of-some days, the officials might have needed a map, a sturdy pair of boots, and a sense of adventure just to find a meeting. But, as with all things Italian, nothing here stays put for too long. The borders shifted, split, and merged, often following the rhythm of laws, referendums, and maybe even a touch of Sardinian stubbornness. Towns like Olbia, Arzachena, and La Maddalena would occasionally pack up and join new provinces, only to sometimes come back later. Sardinian musical chairs, administrative style! This building behind you saw them coming and going-a true revolving door of municipalities. Just imagine the stories this place could tell. The province survived political shakeups and moments of uncertainty. In 2012, as a wave of referendums swept Sardinia, many wondered if the province would vanish like gelato on a summer’s day. Yet the Sassari province held on-at least for a while. Then, in a plot twist worthy of an epic novel, it was abolished-and turned into the Città Metropolitana di Sassari and the new province of Gallura Nord-Est Sardegna in 2025. Institutions adapt, but Sardinian pride remains a constant. Let’s get a bit practical for a moment: with over 92 cities and a variety of landscapes-long sandy beaches touching the Golfo dell’Asinara, wild promontories in Stintino, charming alleys of Alghero and Castelsardo-this province is a patchwork quilt stitched together by sea breezes and railway tracks. In fact, moving people was always serious business here: with major ports serving not just Sardinia, but as far as Barcelona and Marseille, and airports at Alghero and Olbia, there were more comings and goings than in a pizzeria on Friday night! Speaking of which, Sassari is also home to Italy’s first tram-train system, so while other cities said, “all aboard!” Sassari said, “how about a tram and a train at the same time?” But what about the people? Well, for every mountain village like Semestene-boasting a grand population density of just over three people per square kilometer-there’s a city like Sassari itself, the teeming heart with over 223 inhabitants packed into each square kilometer. That’s nearly enough for a full festival parade in every street! The province’s symbol, once granted by the king in 1938, decorated both the province and the city-but even here, a touch of rivalry. In 1936, the city changed its colors, keen to show it was one-of-a-kind. Well, who could blame them? Between regional laws and royal decrees, local pride and the eternal beauty of its coasts and plains, Sassari is all about standing out, a little bit like a Sardinian in a crowd of tourists wearing... socks with sandals. So the Provincia di Sassari was more than just lines on a map-it was a grand chessboard of people, places, and politics, always shifting, always adapting. And as you stand here, with the palazzo before you, you’re really standing at one of Sardinia’s crossroads, where history, geography, and a whole lot of personality meet. Now, ready to continue your adventure through Sassari? Don’t worry, I promise the next stop has no paperwork to fill out! Wondering about the society, honors or the links? Feel free to discuss it further in the chat section below.

To spot the National Art Gallery of Sassari, look for a large, pale pink building with simple rectangular windows and a wooden entrance door topped by the words “MUSEO NAZIONALE” right on the quiet piazza - if you see the big wall and old-fashioned windows, you’re in the right place! Now that you’re standing before the National Art Gallery, let your imagination whisk you back through centuries of secrets and transformation. Imagine the steps beneath your feet echoing with the hurried tread of Jesuit priests in black robes, their whispers drifting on the Sardinian breeze. This very building once rang with lessons and lectures, as it started life back in 1611. It was commissioned by the Archbishop of Oristano, Antonio Canopolo, as a Jesuit college-a place to mold minds and spirits in the heart of Sassari. Within these thick walls, the past is a patchwork quilt. Sardinia’s fate was shaped here: first by the Jesuits spreading knowledge in the city since 1559, then by royal decree, changes, and even the occasional friendly neighborhood banishment! That’s right - the Jesuits were expelled, came back, got kicked out again, and the place changed hats more times than a student trying on graduation caps. After being a religious seminary, a boarding school, and later a prestigious "Domenico Alberto Azuni" high school, by the twentieth century, the grand old building had fallen into neglect and disrepair, its echoing halls waiting for another chance to shine. Fast forward past cobwebs and creaking doors, and along came the cavalry: a massive restoration in the 1980s, with funding from - get this - the national lottery! Maybe someone scratched off a winning ticket and decided what Sassari really needed was a top-notch art gallery. The next time someone questions your lottery scratch card investment, just tell them you’re funding future culture! In 2008, the doors swung open, revealing a transformed space to house treasures the city had been itching to show off. The art inside wasn’t so much acquired as adopted - generous citizens, canny collectors, and philanthropic families donated over 400 works, including medieval religious panels, Renaissance portraits, and enough mythological scenes to fill Mount Olympus. The works aren’t squashed together willy-nilly; they’re sorted by theme: religious art, myths, historical scenes, portraits, lively still lifes, and more, zigzagging through the eras from medieval days all the way to the bustling 1900s. The National Art Gallery isn’t just about dusty paintings. Picture the first floor glowing with saints and legends from the 1600s and 1700s, donated by the likes of Giovanni Antonio Sanna, a man who believed that art should be shared, not hidden behind closed doors. Head upstairs and you’ll discover bold Sardinian artists of the 20th century splashing color and soul onto canvas: see works by Mario Paglietti, Filippo Figari, and the whimsical genius of Edina Altara, with her roomful of playful mirrors and ceramics-proof that art can be both serious and seriously fun. This old college even once starred in a movie set, when the Taviani brothers’ “Padre padrone” filmed its most dramatic scenes here in the 1970s. Every stone and window may have a tale to tell - from schoolchildren dragging their feet to art curators sweeping dust from forgotten frames. Does it all sound a little bit magical, haunted, or maybe just filled with centuries of memories? The next time you visit, listen closely. Maybe you’ll hear the faint scratch of a paintbrush or the echo of a student’s laughter, swirling around the pillars and canvas - the real artwork, perhaps, is the story that never stops unfolding. Intrigued by the the headquarters, the restoration or the pinacotheca? Explore further by joining me in the chat section below.

Right in front of you is a striking neoclassical building with a salmon-pink and pale yellow facade, four tall decorative columns, a grand balcony with ornate ironwork, and a triangular pediment up top-a sure standout among its neighbors on corso Vittorio Emanuele II. Now, let’s imagine what this spot was like centuries ago. Where you’re standing now wasn’t always a theater-back in the days of medieval Sassari, this was the nerve center of the city. The original palazzo di città, the town hall, stood proudly here, complete with its handy arcades, council chambers, secretarial office, and even a courtyard where city officials might have swapped the latest rumors along with council reports. By the end of the 16th century, the palazzo had grown upwards, gaining a new floor so that even more official business could be crammed in. Let's face it, even back then, paperwork always seemed to expand to fill the space available! But time has a way of wearing even the grandest buildings down. By the early 1800s, the old palazzo was on its last legs and city life was bustling right through the walls. King Carlo Felice, with a flair for modern upgrades, decided Sassari deserved something more fitting, so in 1826 the site was transformed. Giuseppe Cominotti, the city architect, got to work designing the beautiful neoclassical structure you see today-a scene-stealer with its elegant columns and grand balcony. It was built in the shape of a horseshoe, inspired by the fashionable theaters of Turin, and was designed to add a little bit of drama (both literally and architecturally) to city life. Here’s something for your next trivia night: the building’s split personality as both municipal headquarters and public theater turned out to be a bit awkward-so much so, the city council packed up and moved, first to Palazzo Manca di Usini, and later, to Palazzo Ducale. The theater side stayed, rolled up its sleeves, and took center stage. Of course, buildings are like actors-they pick up a few scars from the job. In the 20th century, fires and neglect did their worst, but with a dramatic comeback in 1967 and another restoration in the 2000s, the theater is alive and well, still hosting concerts, plays, and art exhibitions-many in the local Sassarese dialect. One of the city’s treasured traditions, the Faradda di li candareri, still puts the Civic Theatre in the spotlight. Every August, the mayor appears out on that grand balcony, raising a toast to wish everyone “A zent’anni!”-to a hundred years! Sometimes that speech gets applause, sometimes a few cheeky whistles-but hey, that’s democracy for you. The Civic Theatre isn’t just a building, it’s a living character in the city’s ongoing story, always restless and ready for its next act. And yes, you might secretly want to take a bow as you pass by!

To spot Palazzo Manca di Usini, look for a grand, pale-white building with a simple, elegant façade and rows of evenly spaced windows, right in the heart of the lively Piazza Tola, sandwiched between bustling shops and shaded trees. Now, let’s travel back in time together! Imagine yourself strolling these streets in the 1500s, when this palace was the pride of Don Giacomo Manca, the lord of Usini and later the Duke of Asinara. Close your eyes for a second-hear the clatter of horses and the whispers about the city’s most fashionable home, the envy of every noble in Sassari. As decades rolled by, the palace changed as much as the city itself. In the 1700s, things got a little tight-so they just added an entire third floor! Each window holds its own story, except for those tiny ones down at the warehouse; those were strictly for the shy barrels and secret supplies. If you listen closely, you might hear the echoes of city officials from 1865, busily planning to transform this grand home into the new city hall. And today, the walls are silent with the wisdom of books, as the city’s library. So, whether you’re a fan of history, hidden treasures, or just suspiciously even windows, Palazzo Manca di Usini has plenty to intrigue your imagination!

Right in front of you, you’ll spot a statue of a stately figure standing high on a stone pedestal, with the name Domenico Alberto Azuni carved into it-set against pastel buildings and framed by windows and balconies, it’s hard to miss! Now, imagine yourself stepping back in time: centuries ago, this spot was nothing like the bright, open square you see today. Instead, it was a cramped wedge of street, hemmed in by the old Santa Caterina church with its grand stairway and the imposing entrance gate of the Governor's Palace-so big, locals even held carnival balls in its carriage house! Built before 1278, the church was later expanded with chapels and a polygonal bell tower, much like Santa Maria di Betlem. But all grand things come to an end-in 1853, both the church and the palace were knocked down, after falling into ruin, making room for fresh air and new beginnings. Only old drawings and a few faint memories remain. This tiny piazza, once called Piazzetta Santa Caterina, was transformed into a proud triangle dedicated to Sassari’s own legal star, Domenico Alberto Azuni, thanks to university students in 1862. Since then, his statue has watched over the flow of daily life and laughter, standing as a friendly reminder: here, even the smallest spaces can hold centuries of stories!

Our story begins in 1558 with Alessio Fontana-no, not a famous Renaissance coffee-slinger, but a generous resident who donated his entire fortune for the creation of a Jesuit college here in Sassari. By 1562, diligent Jesuit fathers were already giving lessons. Imagine small groups of students, their brows furrowed, puzzling over volumes of philosophy and theology as the salty island wind fluttered through open windows. Fast forward to 1617. After much insisting from the Jesuits, the town leaders, and Archbishop Antonio Canopolo (who did more fundraising than a modern university with a new football stadium), King Philip III finally gave the college the grand title of “Regia Università Sarda”-the Royal Sardinian University. It could officially grant degrees in philosophy and theology, which must have caused quite a stir in the city. I wonder if anyone threw their graduation cap in the air yet? Or just their hats. The university’s fortunes rose and fell with the tides of history, each storm leaving its marks. In 1632, the privilege of granting degrees in Law and Medicine was secured. Suddenly, you could study to become a philosopher or a physician-or, for those with a taste for drama, both at once. Over the centuries, the university expanded its faculties. By 1765, under the rule of the House of Savoy, reforms modernized the curriculum and brought a whiff of continental air: new professors arrived from Piedmont, bringing European ideas and, we hope, decent cheese. The central building you see rising before you, the Palazzo dell’Università, has evolved almost as much as the university itself. Built on less-than-glamorous grounds-a refuse pile and old brickworks-the original structure was started in 1611. Each addition and renovation bears a layer of history. After all, where else could you find two distinct courtyards: one for students and one adjacent to the old Jesuit quarters? In 1927, the façade was redone in reinforced concrete, decorated with late Renaissance flair. Today, when you walk beneath its portico, you’re strolling in the footsteps of centuries of students seeking shelter from sudden downpours. Step inside-at least in your mind-to the grand Aula Magna, a masterpiece decorated by Mario Delitala in the 1920s. Imagine the sweeping frescoes depicting the founding moments of the university. Scenes of solemn table discussions and historic royal charters are painted with vibrant gestures. Even the ceiling is alive: an allegorical painting of four muscled, statuesque figures representing the first four faculties-Law, Veterinary, Medicine, and Pharmacy-draped in streaming, colorful ribbons. Delitala even designed the doors and the cattedra, a monumental lectern almost intimidating enough to make students forget their stage fright. The library has its own secret stories, starting with Jesuit priests bringing rare tomes and continuing with 17th-century donations from archbishops. At one point, after a roof collapse in 1837, the precious books spent five years in limbo-if those pages could talk, they’d probably complain about the draft and demand better lighting. Through revolutions, royal proclamations, and countless reforms, the University of Sassari has grown into a modern institution. Today it boasts a crop of faculties from architecture to veterinary medicine, and a library system with over 600,000 items-enough to make the most dedicated student weep with joy (or panic during exam season). So as you gaze up at this historic building, remember: behind every stone and every echoing hallway, generations of thinkers, dreamers, and even the odd prankster have marched through the centuries, eager for knowledge and maybe just a little keen on skipping class. Who knows? Maybe the next chapter of this university’s story is waiting for you to write it. Seeking more information about the university palace, faculty of medicine or the features? Ask away in the chat section and I'll fill you in.

You’re standing where the heart of Sassari kept its wildest secrets and its sternest guards. Right in front of you was once the mighty Castle of Sassari-a fortress with enough stories to fill its dungeons (and let’s be honest, probably enough ghosts to fill its towers). Close your eyes, and just imagine the wind carrying shouts and orders from soldiers back in the 1300s, when the Aragonese and rebellious Sassaresi clashed here. The castle rose around 1330, just as the city was throwing not one, but two rebellions at the powerful Crown of Aragon. Talk about neighborhood drama! It was built in an unusual trapezoidal shape, wrapped in five sturdy towers-one in each corner and one jutting proudly from the center. Right where you’re standing, people once crossed a stone bridge over a deep, gleaming moat to reach the heavy southern doors. Picture guards stationed above you, peering from arrow slits, ready to welcome (or not welcome) visitors with cannons pointed toward Sassari’s central square. But as centuries passed, the castle’s job description got rewrites. It served as a soldier’s base under the Spanish, a nest for the Inquisition-yes, the only official one in Sardinia from 1563 (!)-and even as a fortress for the Savoy’s army well into the 1800s. The castle became something of an overachiever: part-guardhouse, part-courthouse, and more than a bit of jailhouse. Inside, prisoners scratched secret hopes and twisted fears into the walls: medieval graffiti, some macabre, some saintly, some possibly the medieval version of “I was here.” Sometimes the jail doubled as a water cistern. Now that’s recycling! In 1877, the powers that be decided the old fortress was in the way of modern ambitions. They tore most of it down to make space for the Lamarmora barracks-home to the famous Sassari Brigade. But they weren’t thorough in their job. Some two stories of the old fortress survived, hidden just below the new piazza. In the 2000s, as archaeologists dug into these layers, it was as if the castle itself had secretly been hoarding evidence for centuries. They found mosaic-tiled floors, sturdy foundations, and the legendary XIV-century moat, nearly nine meters deep in places! Things get even more interesting underneath. Starting in the Middle Ages, people knew there was water nearby-a circular fountain called the “Pozzo Regio,” with water so clear folks doubted it was from Sassari at all. The local geology, with its underground rivers called “dragonaie,” kept the fortress and the town well supplied, even in the toughest sieges. By the late 1800s, there was even a flower-shaped stone fountain marking the spot-five petals, sprouting water thanks to a shiny new aqueduct. Now, if you think life here was all dungeons and dares, think again. By the 1500s, there was a busy little maiolica pottery factory next door, churning out bright ceramics-which probably made for colorful shrapnel if those cannons ever misfired! During World War II, when Sassari trembled under air raids, locals hurried down into deep, echoing tunnels beneath your feet, dug out as bomb shelters. Picture a warren of narrow, four-meter-high tunnels, stretching for 150 meters-even linking up with the city post office. These dark passageways sometimes broke right into ancient medieval corridors, which were probably just as surprised as the townsfolk. As you tour the area today, you get glimpses through glass and steel into the castle’s deepest stories-two floors of underground bastions, secret doors, and sunlit walkways beside what was once the castle moat. If you want to see where Sassari kept its most valuable secrets, its feistiest prisoners, and perhaps even the odd Inquisitor with a taste for pottery, you couldn’t be standing in a more legendary spot. And remember, if you hear any strange sounds coming from underground, it might just be the plumbing. Or maybe... the castle’s old ghosts, trying to organize another rebellion! Onward to the next stop-where the legends only grow!

To spot the Museum of the Sassari Brigade, look for a sand-colored building with large wooden doors, bold Italian and European flags above the entrance, and “Caserma Lamarmora” written across the top-right at the ground level in Piazza Castello. Alright, brave explorer, imagine yourself transported back in time-soldiers in crisp uniforms march past you, echoing the proud traditions of the legendary Sassari Brigade. Step through these doors and you’ll find a treasure trove from 1992, built to honor the dashing feats and traditions of the Brigade meccanizzata “Sassari,” especially during the thunderous days of the First World War. The walls whisper stories through photographs, letters, dusty medals, and even stunning reconstructions of the muddy, nail-biting trenches that snaked their way across old battlefields. Each corner reveals something new-the sweat of the 151st and 152nd Infantry Regiments, the tension and laughter that lived side by side among Italian soldiers, and the unforgettable cry of victory over the roar of cannons. It's a place where you can almost smell leather boots, feel anticipation in the air, and maybe, just maybe, hear a ghostly “Forza Paris!” that used to rally soldiers for Italy. Step inside and you’re not just reading a history book-you’re walking on hallowed ground where courage and a bit of Sardinian humor still linger.

Look across the Piazza d’Italia for a large, elegant, golden-yellow rectangular building with ornate, arched windows grouped in twos and threes, a grand stone balcony above its central doorway, and a rooftop lined with a decorative balustrade. Standing before Giordano Palace, let yourself slip back to the late 1800s, when the square buzzed with gossip about its newest arrival. Picture the sound of chisels echoing off stone as workers busied themselves in November 1877, turning senator Giuseppe Giordano Apostoli’s bold dreams into reality. Apostoli wasn’t just any senator-he’d founded the newspaper “La Sardegna,” so you can guess he liked making headlines, and his palace was certainly headline-worthy! The plans started off with the engineer Giuseppe Pasquali, but in a twist of fate he passed away mid-project, and the finishing touches-every last quirky, beautiful decoration-were delivered by architect Luigi Fasoli. They wanted something that would make people gasp and maybe even trip over their own feet out of admiration. Mission accomplished, I’d say! Glance at the ground floor: rugged pink trachyte stone punctuates the base, while columns guard the entrance like loyal knights holding up the grand balcony. Pointy arch-shaped windows and doors form a rhythm that dances along the entire façade-watch for those bifora windows on the main floor, like pairs of eyes peeping out, then look up for the delicate trio-lobed ones above. Up top, the façade is lined with neat little arches and crowned with a lacy balustrade, giving it that special Venetian Gothic flair. Inside? Imagine glittery Neo-Gothic halls gleaming with painted ceilings by the artist Bilancioni, ornate mosaics, and that dazzling 'yellow room' with its floor mosaic picturing a dancer. Though the palace’s treasures changed hands-first a home for the Giordano family, then taken over by the Banco di Napoli in 1921-you can still spot bits of the original decor, and perhaps, just maybe, catch the echo of elegant footsteps and whispered secrets hidden in corners. Mystery, history, and a dash of aristocratic drama-who needs a soap opera when you have Giordano Palace? Ready to delve deeper into the the façade, the interior or the image gallery? Join me in the chat section for an enriching discussion.

You can spot Piazza d’Italia by looking for the grand building with a neoclassical facade, standing right in front of you with tall windows, a central staircase, and a beautiful clock at the top. Welcome to the true living room of Sassari! Right now, you’re standing where the city likes to gather, gossip, and-let’s be honest-show off a bit. Imagine this place back in the 1800s, a brand-new piazza carved just outside the old medieval walls, designed by a clever engineer named Enrico Marchesi. It was supposed to be octagonal, but, like my attempts at baking a pizza, it wound up more rectangular in the end. They started building in 1872, and soon, this piazza became the city’s elegant centerpiece, a perfect meeting point on the old Roman road connecting Port Torres to Cagliari. Ahead, the palazzo della Provincia dazzles you with its neoclassical flair, while the neo-gothic Giordano Palace adds a splash of drama. In the center, you’ll find the monument to Vittorio Emanuele II-a 19th-century king who never missed a good unveiling. From here, covered porticos whisk you toward the old castle, and wide avenues stretch like arteries into modern Sassari. With laughter, festivals, and maybe a few political debates, Piazza d’Italia has seen it all. Ready to keep exploring? Or perhaps you want to wave to the king’s statue first!

To spot the Palazzo della Provincia, look straight ahead for a grand cream-colored building with tall arched windows, elegant columns, and an ornate clock above the entrance in the center, flanked by statues lining the roof. Now, let’s dive into the story! Imagine the year is 1872. Sassari’s city officials, squeezed into disjointed buildings like sardines in a can-Teatro Civico, Palazzo d’Usini, and Palazzo Ducale-decide enough is enough! They band together, scrape together a whopping 600,000 lire (which would buy you a lot of gelato), and declare: it’s time for a palace worthy of their ambitions. The chosen spot? The northeast side of what is now the glorious Piazza d’Italia-back then, just a dusty field as large as a football pitch. Picture the hustle and the excitement as plans unfurl for a palace in the latest late neoclassical style, something to make the neighbors jealous. The responsibility falls to two determined engineers, Giovanni Borgnini and Eugenio Sironi, who stubbornly insist on working side by side. Construction gets underway with local firms building the shell, fashioning fixtures, and-one can only imagine-quarreling over the color of the drapes. On October 18, 1873, shovels strike the ground. In a dizzying five years, the new Palazzo is ready, with intricate frescos finishing up by 1882 and the proud civic clock, crafted in Turin, set ticking away from 1880. Not bad, except the final bill? A jaw-dropping 1,100,000 lire. Worth every penny, if you ask the officials-who now lounge in 265 rooms across a sprawling 4,456 square meters. The main entrance (take a peek at those elegant steps!) opens into a grand atrium where silent marble slabs remember the local fallen of the Great War; just past this, a corridor connects visitors to luxurious salon after salon. You’ll find parquet floors polished enough for a ballroom dance and ceilings so high you might get a nosebleed from just looking up. The most famous room? The Sala Sciuti, the heart of the building. On the top floor, you’ll find this enormous council chamber, its vaulted ceiling stretching a dizzying 12.6 meters. There are 12 sculpted figures here, the moors with bandaged eyes, frozen mid-story. Back in 1875, the city challenged artists across Italy to imagine a grand mural-a scene to inspire pride. Emerging victorious, Giuseppe Sciuti from Sicily gets the job. Not content with mere sketches, he hunts down ancient costumes and arms, and even sketches locals to capture Sassari’s true spirit. The finished fresco tells the story of Giommaria Angioy riding into town in 1796, bringing a breeze of rebellious hope. But there’s more: a second, grand mural shows the Proclamation of the Sassari Republic. Here, elders gather in the old town hall, intently listening as ambassadors of Sassari debate with Genoa, winning precious self-rule in 1294. Spot Eleonora d’Arborea and Amsicora lurking on the walls-local legends caught in paint. Up above, an allegory of the Fatherland unfolds, dazzling in just 90 square meters. There’s a touch of modern artistry, too; in 1983, Aligi Sassu gifted a mighty painting of Prometheus that now guards the grand staircase. Meanwhile, in 1899, the city crowned it all with a monument to King Vittorio Emanuele II-placed right outside, perfectly in line with the entrance. Today, the Palazzo della Provincia isn’t just a vital hub for the city’s government, it’s a symbol-so iconic it’s even pictured on the 29th page of the Italian passport. So, as you gaze at those imposing columns and that dignified clock, remember: this palace was born from ambition, vision, and just a hint of architectural one-upmanship. And if anyone asks, yes-265 rooms do require a very good map and maybe a pair of roller skates! Exploring the realm of the the palace, the main façade or the the interior? Feel free to consult the chat section for additional information.