What the Stones Remember: Granada After the Fall
By Adrian Albarran
Buenos días! The day started as traditionally as possible in Granada, with a table full of croissants, fresh juice, and generous slices of jamón, a product for which the region is famously known. Our Occidental Hotel has genuinely offered some of the best breakfasts of the entire trip, with a spread that includes everything from fresh fruit to warm pastries and truly gives you a taste of Spain. Fueled and ready for the day, all of us students gathered and set out for another academically enriching experience, this time led by Professor Simon and Keiner rather than Jesús, our previous tour guide.
From left to right: Professor Rabinovitch delivering the first lecture of the day; local shops preparing for Corpus Christi. Photo by Adrian Albarran.
We began by walking toward the Real Monasterio de los Jerónimos, but our first stop came along the way on Calle Carrera de la Virgen, a Granada staple lined with tall shade trees on both sides and gelato shops that looked especially tempting on this sunny day. It was here that Professor Rabinovitch gathered us to discuss the history of the square we were about to visit. We learned that Bib-Rambla, whose name derives from the Arabic Bab al-Ramla (“Gate of the Sand” or “Sandy Gate”), served as the commercial heart of the medina during the Nasrid period. It was a flourishing marketplace where Muslim life unfolded for centuries. The original gate was unfortunately destroyed in 1884, but in the 1930s an architect salvaged what remained and relocated it to the grounds near the Alhambra, where it still stands today. What struck me about the area was how alive it felt. Vendors and locals filled the space in much the same way it would have functioned during the Muslim era, even if most people passing through had no idea of the history beneath their feet. Professor Rabinovitch also pointed out that the streets of the old Nasrid medina were often named after specific trades, such as Calle de los Curtidores (Street of the Leatherworkers), which I found particularly interesting because it was also mentioned in our readings about how Granada’s commercial and civic life was organized during the Sultanate’s golden age.
From left to right: Towering effigies of Ferdinand and Isabella in the Tarasca parade; parish processions participating in the parade. Photo by Adrian Albarran.
As we made our way through the streets toward the Monasterio, we stumbled upon something none of us were expecting: the Tarasca parade, the opening procession of Granada’s Corpus Christi festival, one of the largest and most beloved celebrations in all of Andalusia. The streets were lined with locals eagerly anticipating the procession. Everywhere you looked, there were suits and dresses and an energy that was truly infectious. The parade features gigantes y cabezudos, enormous hollow figures representing important historical and cultural characters associated with Granada, carried through the streets to festive music and the cheers of the crowd. As someone with deep Catholic roots, coming across this procession felt like a full-circle moment. Seeing the faith I grew up with expressed so publicly and joyfully in the streets of a city we had been studying for weeks genuinely stopped me in my tracks and made me reflect on how priceless these moments and experiences truly are.
What made the experience even more extraordinary was who the giant figures represented. Standing before me were towering effigies of Ferdinand and Isabella, the Catholic Monarchs, the very figures we had encountered repeatedly throughout our travels and studies, alongside a figure of Boabdil, the last Nasrid sultan who surrendered the keys of the Alhambra on January 2, 1492. The layers of meaning in that image are almost impossible to overstate. Here was a Catholic religious celebration parading through the streets of a city that was once the last stronghold of Muslim rule in the Iberian Peninsula. Seeing the conquerors and the conquered represented side by side in the same procession was astonishing. It captured, in a single image, everything our readings have been building toward: the deep entanglement of Muslim and Christian histories in this city and the way Granada cannot tell its Catholic story without also telling its Islamic one.
From left to right: Exterior of the Real Monasterio de San Jerónimo; interior of the church at the Real Monasterio de San Jerónimo. Photo by Adrian Albarran.
After the parade, we continued on to our main destination for the morning: the Real Monasterio de San Jerónimo. Walking through its doors, I was immediately struck by the sheer scale and beauty of what stood before me. The monastery was established shortly after Granada’s conquest in 1492 by the Catholic Monarchs. Construction began in 1504 on the site of a former Nasrid palace, making it one of the first major Christian monuments built in a city that had been under Muslim rule for nearly 250 years. Although the monastery was commissioned by Ferdinand and Isabella, it was largely brought to life through the patronage of Gonzalo Fernández de Córdoba. After Gonzalo’s death, it was his wife, Doña María Manrique, who assumed responsibility for advancing the project and overseeing much of its construction. The monastery’s massive altarpiece, created between 1570 and 1605, was designed around the military achievements of Gonzalo. At its base stand statues of Gonzalo in full armor and his wife in a veil and cloak, depicted in eternal prayer.
From left to right: statue of Baby Jesus carried by Captain Gonzalo into battle; sword belonging to Captain Gonzalo mounted above an arch inside the church; painting of the Last Supper in the refectory; graves of monks scattered throughout the monastery courtyard. Photo by Adrian Albarran.
As we explored the monastery, several features stood out to me in particular. One was a small Gothic statue of Baby Jesus displayed in a gilded case, accompanied by a placard explaining that it belonged to Gonzalo Fernández de Córdoba, who carried it with him into battle as a devotional object. It was fascinating to imagine this celebrated military commander entering war with a small figure of Christ for protection and guidance. We also noticed Gonzalo’s sword mounted above one of the arches inside the church, a testament to the prestige and honor he held within the institution. In the refectory, the room where the monks took their meals, a large painting of the Last Supper hung on the wall. Keiner explained that the monks ate there in complete silence, with the image of Christ and his disciples watching over every meal. The monastery was financed in part through donations from nobles, and those who contributed the most were often granted burial places closer to the altar. The monks themselves selected their burial locations when they took their vows, which helps explain the many graves scattered throughout the monastery.
From left to right: Movie night, watching El Cid together. Photo by Adrian Albarran; final lecture of the day by Professor Rabinovitch. Photo by Melody Asaresh Moghadam.
To close out the day, we gathered for a lecture by Professor Rabinovitch on the fall of Granada and Jewish history in the city. The lecture opened with something genuinely surprising that I had not known before. The Alhambra has connections to Granada’s Jewish past, as the hill on which it was built was once associated with a Jewish settlement and elite residences under earlier periods of the city’s history, though little physical evidence of that presence remains today. Professor Rabinovitch shared a Hebrew poem translated from Arabic that described the Lion Fountain of the Alhambra in striking detail. The poem served as a reminder of how these spaces were experienced and remembered by members of Granada’s Jewish community. When discussing the fall of Granada, we analyzed a series of paintings depicting the “Last Sigh of the Moor” and considered what each artistic choice revealed about the ways Spanish society later chose to remember and romanticize the event. Our discussion also returned to themes from the readings, including the argument that the fall of Granada was influenced not only by Christian military pressure but also by internal political divisions within the Nasrid state.
We also discussed the role of prominent Jewish financiers who supported the Catholic Monarchs during the conquest, hoping to secure a more stable future for Jewish communities. Another fascinating point was the claim that the timing of the 1492 expulsion was linked to the date traditionally associated with the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, giving the event additional religious significance. It was a great deal to reflect on and a fitting way to transition into our movie night, where we watched El Cid together as a group. The evening became a genuine moment of community, filled with laughter, reflection, and the chance to unwind after a full and meaningful day. It was a reminder of how much this group has grown together over the course of the program.