The Matera Cathedral crowns the city from the highest ridge between the Sassi districts, a position that has made it both a landmark and a watchful presence for nearly eight centuries. Work began around 1230, on the ruins of a Benedictine monastery, and by 1270 the new cathedral was ready-first dedicated to Saint Eustace, then later to the Dark-skinned Madonna, who became Matera’s most beloved protector. From the outside, the building still carries the clean lines of the 13th century, while the interior reveals a far more layered history of alteration and embellishment.

Look closely at the façade: a rose window with sixteen rays bursts out from the stone, framed above by Archangel Michael trampling a dragon. Below, an Atlas figure strains under the weight of the design, while a row of lemons-twelve in all-quietly symbolize the apostles. Lions, saints, and prophets guard the portal, while a 170-foot bell tower rises beside it, visible from every corner of the Sassi.

Step inside and the mood shifts. A Byzantine fresco of the Dark-skinned Madonna survives from the 13th century, while later centuries gilded the space with painted ceilings, elaborate plasterwork, and golden altars. The wooden choir stalls, Persio’s Nativity, and Santoro’s paintings all speak to Matera’s artistic lineage. The Chapel of the Annunciation, with its coffered ceiling and sculpted Virgin, completes the ensemble.

Neglect, earthquakes, and restorations have all left their trace, but since reopening in 2016 the cathedral has returned to its role as both parish church and symbol of civic pride. From its terrace, the view sweeps down over the Sassi, making the cathedral as much a vantage point on Matera’s history as it is a place of worship.

Beneath Matera’s Vittorio Veneto Square lies the Palombaro Lungo, a cistern of such scale and ambition that locals began calling it a water cathedral. The project began in the 16th century, when natural caves were stitched together to form part of the city’s water network, though the final push to complete it only came in 1832. By then, the underground chamber stretched long and deep, able to hold nearly five million liters of water collected from rainfall and nearby springs-an immense reservoir for a town where rivers were scarce and every drop mattered. Expansion continued into the 1880s, ensuring that Matera’s residents had a steady supply long before modern pipelines arrived.

The very name tells its story. Some link Palombaro to the Latin for a bird of prey diving toward its target, others to plumbarius, a term for water collectors, while Lungo simply nods to its enormous size. Step inside and the atmosphere justifies the reputation: arches and stone columns rise like the supports of a great basilica, their reflections dancing in the still water below. For generations, this hidden structure fed the square’s fountain above and supplied Matera’s households, until the Apulian Aqueduct, completed in 1920, finally made it redundant.

For decades, the cistern sat sealed and forgotten until 1991, when students climbed in with a dinghy and revealed what lay below. Their discovery, followed by careful restoration, offered the city not just a reclaimed monument but proof of its historic ingenuity-evidence that helped Matera secure its UNESCO World Heritage designation.

Today, raised walkways guide visitors across this immense chamber. With dim lighting, mirrored waters, and soaring vaults, the Palombaro Lungo feels both monumental and intimate-a reminder that Matera’s survival was literally carved out of stone.

The Church of Saint Maria of Idris is a rupestrian church in Matera. It is carved into a limestone rock of Monterrone that dominates the Sasso Caveoso. The beautiful location offers a unique view of the city. The church can be reached via stairs to the rock Church of Santa Lucia alle Malve. "Idris" is derived from the Greek "Odigitria," "who shows the way."

A facade of masonry is next to a small bell tower. The interior nave is uneven. Some frescoes have been removed for restoration. Once restored, they are kept at the Superintendency for Historical and Artistic Heritage of Matera. On the altar is a 17th-century tempera rendering of the Madonna and Child.

Santa Maria de Idris is connected to the rock crypt of San Giovanni in Monterrone via a tunnel. The tomb holds several precious frescoes from the 12th to the 17th century. A fresco of John the Baptist is in the tunnel. In a lunette above the crypt is a 12th-century Christ Pantocrator. The title is Greek, meaning "All-Powerful."

After the corridor is a large hall, a nave of San Giovanni in Monterrone. On the wall of the presbytery is a 12th-century Madonna and Child, Glykophilousa style (Virgin of the Sweet Kiss). Other saints stand in decorated niches.

The Cave House of Lonely Alley pulls you straight into Matera’s past, before 1952, when the government declared the Sassi unfit for living and moved families out. While many of the old cave homes have since been polished into hotels and guesthouses, this one was left as it was-complete with tools, furniture, and the everyday traces of life carved into stone. It’s less a reconstruction than a freeze-frame, showing exactly how generations managed to live inside the rock.

The house itself is set in a natural hollow in the limestone, with additions made over the 18th century. Step through its wide archway and you enter a single chamber, where spaces were divided not by walls but by necessity. Light fell on the front rooms, so that’s where cooking, eating, and sleeping took place. A single table fed the family, a brazier provided heat, and a raised bed with a corn-stuffed mattress kept dampness at bay.

Move further in and the cave becomes more practical: a manger for the mule, a manure pit, and rough stables. Tools, pottery, and a loom remind us that work and domestic life were inseparable, while channels cut into the rock fed a cistern that captured every drop of precious rainwater.

When the Sassi were abandoned, the house-like many others-stood empty, part of what Italians called the “shame of Italy.” Today, it survives as a reminder of that era, complemented by nearby sites like the rock church of Saint Pietro Monterrone and a snow cave now showing old documentary footage.

The Cave House of Lonely Alley doesn’t romanticize the past-it lets you walk into it, stone walls and all, and see how people endured by turning bare rock into a home.

Noha House doesn’t just stand quietly in Matera’s Civita district-it speaks. Built in the 15th century as the residence of the noble Noha family, it once anchored a patchwork of gardens and estates that even included their own bridge, linking their property to the Saint Paolo quarter. Unlike their peers, who chose more stable terrain, the Nohas built their home directly over an erosion channel. To shore it up, they recycled ruins as foundations, unintentionally unearthing traces of Bronze and Iron Age life, along with Greek, Roman, and medieval layers. In short, Noha House was perched above a cross-section of Matera’s entire past.

Architecturally, it mirrors the Sassi themselves-half-carved into the rock, half-built above ground. A courtyard framed by service rooms, an external staircase climbing toward the living quarters, and stone details give the house its distinctive form. For centuries it remained a private residence, until it was donated to the Italian Environmental Fund, an organization dedicated to preserving Italy’s heritage. Acquired in 2004, it was carefully restored and transformed from a family home into a cultural threshold for the city.

Step inside and you won’t find display cases or shelves of artifacts. Instead, the house itself becomes the stage for The Invisible Stones, a thirty-minute immersive presentation. Film, archival images, and narration flood the walls, guiding visitors through Matera’s story-from its earliest cave settlements to its medieval faith, from the abandonment and stigma of the 20th century to the UNESCO recognition and cultural revival that redefined its future.

Noha House now acts as both a preserved piece of Matera’s fabric and a lens through which the city is understood. By sitting in its cool stone rooms, visitors gain not only orientation but perspective: the journey of a city once dismissed as a national embarrassment, reborn as a European Capital of Culture, carved permanently into the rock of memory.