You know, I've thought it curious that my neighborhood is so quiet after 10pm.
I usually take Biscuit out for a little walk on our hill in the evening, and there's the usual small crowd: the folks who do their own dog-walking at dusk, the neighbor man whose cigar smoke (I assume) is always wafting through my living room window, a couple of boys on bikes. But once it's dark--actual dark--it's so quiet over here (not including the nightly chorus of dogs). It's weird; I've waited for buses in Alcala at 11, midnight, and the streets there are just buzzing with people out for drinks, tapas, romance, whatever.
Tonight, a little after 10, I decided Biscuit and I should go for a walk to the other side of town. There's a paseo that runs alongside the river ("river" is a very, very loose description, by the way); plus, it's a beautiful night. We left out neighborhood--which is just a little jut of town on the opposite side of the highway from the rest of Camarma. It's a few blocks wide by a few blocks deep--a development left unfinished by the discovery of some precious birds whose habitat it was invading.
First we passed an older lady and a pizza delivery man on motorbike, then a woman with small children in a stroller, then a couple of old men, a family blocking the sidewalk...and just as we turned on to the paseo, I heard the buzz. So this is where all the Camarmites are at night! All along the far side of the paseo, behind a playground, the terrace of a restaurant was full--a restaurant I've only seen, empty, in daylight hours. And in the playground, at least 15 kids were running, playing futbol, swinging. Further down the paseo, another playground, this one also full of kids running wild while their parents stood on the sidewalk, chatting away. Those kids won't be in bed for a long, long time.
Spain is like the awesome aunt who lets you stay up as long as you want and doesn't get mad when you don't get up in the morning.