When a Civilization Fades, Which Light Illuminates It?

The tomb, designed in the form of a mausoleum, is a sarcophagus supported by statues that appear to represent the most powerful kings of Spain carrying Columbus’s remains. This symbolic tomb within the cathedral marks, for many Europeans, the beginning of the Age of Exploration.

After spending about an hour inside the cathedral, I exited from the rear and suddenly found myself facing an enormous tower that I had not seen from the front. This is the iconic Giralda, known by the Spanish as La Torre de la Giralda, located on the north side of Seville Cathedral.

Originally built during the Umayyad period as the minaret of the Great Mosque of Seville, the Giralda is still the tallest structure in the city, standing at approximately 104 meters. It carries traces of two distinct faiths—Islamic in its origins and Christian in its present form.

The brick-built tower features decorative crenellations and latticed windows. Interestingly, the tower appears to change in character at different times of the day. Around noon and again in the late afternoon, it seems as though the tower is illuminated by different tones of light, despite it being broad daylight. The first photo of the tower that I included here was taken on the same day at 20:33 with my own phone.

If you stay near the tower for a while, it offers spectacular moments. Although I visited other places during my short trip, I focused mostly on Seville’s historic center, where I spent the majority of my time. The trio of landmarks—La Giralda, the Royal Alcázar, and Seville Cathedral—form a powerful historical ensemble that draws in all visitors, myself included. Farewell, Seville!

In a way, I began to orbit the Giralda, much like a satellite. Every time I attempted to leave, the tower seemed to pull me back, whispering silently, “You came all this way for me. I will keep revealing myself in new robes. Stay.” And so I lingered for nearly an hour within the gravitational pull of the Giralda.

Though the intense heat prevented me from standing directly in front of the tower for long periods, I spent time in nearby cafés and ice cream shops, waiting for the light to shift. It was worth the wait. In the late afternoon, just before sunset, the Giralda shimmered as though wrapped in a robe of gold. The photo I took at 21:29 captured that golden glow—just before the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

At that hour in July, the sunlight softens and falls at a sharp angle, giving the tower a golden hue. Based on the many photos I took over those days, I can confidently say that the Giralda’s “prime time” in July is between 21:00 and 21:30.

On the final day of my trip, I attempted to visit the Royal Alcázar of Seville originally begun by Muslims as an Andalusian palace. However, I was only able to see its exterior areas. The image above shows the outer façade of the Puerta del León (Lion Gate), the main entrance to the palace complex. The low ticket price had created a long line, making it difficult to obtain a ticket on the spot. Although I could have purchased a ticket in advance online, I had not anticipated such a large crowd.

Before arriving in Spain, I had also read that the upper floors of the palace are still used by the Spanish royal family, and therefore some parts are closed to the public. This knowledge slightly diminished my motivation to insist on entering. I spent the remaining minutes of that day wandering through the palace gardens. Filled with orange and lemon trees, the gardens are designed in a maze-like layout. For this reason, the Spanish call it El Laberinto.

And with that final walk through the fragrant labyrinth of citrus trees, my journey came to an end