I have such a non-existent nightlife that the curfew not only doesn't affect me, but it serves as an alibi. I would have New Year's Eve dinner at six, by eight I would already be eating my twelve grapes and dancing until ten. By half past ten, everyone out. For me, now, having a drink past ten at night is like going to an after-party.
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My ideal drinks are always during the day. That night, then, New Year's Eve, by eleven I've always finished dinner and I have to kill time until the grapes. I'm not saying there shouldn't be places open all night, when possible. Of course there should. There's a time in life when bars have to close, in the early morning. I can say (now from bed) what song they played in each place to indicate that they were closing and you had to start leaving. In the beloved Passenger they played Carajillo, canuto y raya, by El gitano de Balaguer. In the Stinger, an aria by Lakhme, which I think they've used for a cologne commercial. In the Plataforma nightclub, they played Warswa, by Bowie. And in the New York, in the Gothic Quarter, of course, New York, New York, and they turned on the lights.
That's why I liked the article in The New Barcelona Post by the admired Puigcercós so much, who is someone who understands food. He said: "Closing restaurants at 11 p.m. at the latest would also be a benefit for the hospitality industry, as it would allow them to close earlier and gain more quality of life, in addition to better reorganizing the workday, which for many people is now split."
I admit it. That restaurants, these days, serve dinner at seven, I love it. It seems wonderful to me. A thousand times, at six in the afternoon, I've looked for a place to go for dinner and only found frankfurts and tapas bars. The etymology of the word "siesta" tells us that it is the "sixth" hour. Therefore, the siesta should be taken six hours after waking up. Therefore, if you wake up at seven, at one on the sofa. And therefore, you must have eaten before: at twelve. And therefore, at three you might want to snack on some cookies. And therefore, you can go to dinner at six, or seven! Like in New York! The Catalan expression "anar a fer nones" comes from the "ninth" hour. Nine o'clock! That leaves you plenty of time for bed activities. Including reading.
Once, on a weekend, a friend called me at three to invite me to lunch. And I had to tell him: "But I've already eaten...". But it's also true that sometimes I haven't said anything, I've gone to eat again, and I've taken it as if it were a snack. A knife and fork snack.
By the way. What was the song they played to finish at Imagine, on Aribau street? Well, yes. That one.