Backstory: Sleepless in Spain: The siesta recedes

Late lunch and dinner hours, however, are a more recent adaptation. Historians speculate that schedules shifted in the 1930s during the Spanish Civil War, when hunger forced the populace to seek dual-employment. Many Spaniards would eat lunch around 3 p.m. between jobs. "We have stayed with the worst of the epoch, when it's not necessary today," says Nuria Chinchilla, head of the International Center on Work and Family at the University of Navarra in Barcelona.

Many Spaniards believe the attempt to coordinate their schedule with the rest of Europe dilutes a way of life. Diego Rubio, who works for the local government in Seville, says his father could never fathom working through the day uninterrupted. Back then, whole towns shut down during the afternoon. That is still the case today in small cities, but mega supermarkets and department stores are now open all day, forcing butchers and shop owners to adjust, too.

Spaniards of Mr. Rubio's generation, in their 30s, are starting to shift their perspective on the utility of extended lunches. Although he spends his two-hour break at home with his wife and daughter, Rubio would welcome the chance to eat through lunch and get errands done later - if it worked. "In theory, it's a great idea," he says. But he has watched friends take jobs with shorter lunch breaks who don't get home earlier. "If I eat quickly, just to stay late, what's the point?"

Economic realities have helped restructure the Spanish day, but so have social movements. For Gonzalo Martínez, who works at a mari- time transportation company in Bilbao, the demise of the siesta is a sign of women's rights. "In a way it was always a man's thing," he says.

That view is underscored by an old joke: What is the woman's siesta? Washing the dishes. And it is not that far off from what life was like when Mr. Martínez was growing up. His mother stayed home and prepared lunch for her two sons and husband, who would eat, sleep, and return to work while she continued with her chores.

These days, both he and his wife work. He comes home for lunch; she does not. Now his company may move its offices from the city center, which would make a mid-day commute home impossible. "It's less quality of life," he says. "But that's how it is today."

Spanish schedules are in flux. In some towns in the South, "silence proclamations" have been in effect for years banning construction work and other noise from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. In the hectic hubs of Madrid and Barcelona, the pace remains constant throughout the day. In cities like Bilbao or Valencia, there is no standard.

Alonso says that some 30 percent of his friends have a traditional siesta. For those who can't make it home, one company (Masajes a 1000) offers clients a massage and chance to sleep during lunchtime.

As mid-day rituals change, few expect Spain's nighttime to transform soon. Prime-time television doesn't begin until 10 p.m. Those who try to eat out early - say, 8:30 p.m. - often find that restaurants are not yet open.

Even Alonso will only adjust up to a point. While he doesn't make it home to his pinstriped pajamas anymore, he's not about to adopt lunch American-style - devouring a sandwich in front of the computer. If it doesn't require silverware, napkins, or, most important, companionship, it isn't lunch. "If I have to eat alone, I'd rather not eat," he says.

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