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We were looking for an authentic destination in Puglia. The Palazzo Maresgallo exceeded every expectation. From the spacious and well-appointed suite, to the art-filled public spaces, to the warm and welcoming staff this place is perfect. Miriam and her team went out of their way to make our visit special. We would absolutely stay here on our next visit to Lecce.

In the tapestried heart of Lecce, a city where history whispers in every corner and modernity subtly intertwines, we stumbled upon the quiet sanctum of Palazzo Maresgallo. Amidst the noisy clamour of AirBBs that often promised more than they delivered, this place felt like an oasis, a silent retreat where time stood still and yet danced in spirited joy. The soul of the place is its people. In the nuanced spaces between conversations, we found the timeless grace of Miriam. Much like the meditative pauses we’ve often encountered in our travels, Miriam, reminiscent of a contemporary Peggy Guggenheim, creates a sanctuary that’s both an ode to art and a tribute to hospitality. Morning light at Palazzo Maresgallo breaks gently, almost hesitantly, casting soft hues on the elaborate breakfast spread. Each morsel speaks of tradition, of stories passed down through generations, yet served with a contemporary flair. As the days morph into evenings, the terrace becomes a realm of melodic interludes, where live music is not just heard but felt, resonating with one’s inner cadences. Jasmine and Antonio, guardians of this haven, with their gentle demeanour, seem to understand the unspoken, guiding you, offering solace, and ensuring that every moment within these walls feels like a personal journey. It’s a space where one is reminded of the luxury of simplicity, the eloquence of silence, and the profundity of genuine connections. In a world that often races past the essentials, Palazzo Maresgallo invites one to pause, to reflect, to savour. It’s not merely a hotel; it’s a lesson in being, a space where art isn’t just seen but experienced, where interiors aren’t just designed but felt. It’s Lecce’s silent poem, waiting to be read and beautifully executed by Miriam. Michael, Monica and Bea