The Spanish siesta: between the hum of the fan and the song of the cicadas

The siesta, that invention of ours

They say the word "siesta" comes from the Latin word "sexta hora ," which was what the Romans called the time of day when the heat was at its peak, between one and three in the afternoon. They would then stop their workday to rest, eat something, and regain their strength before continuing.

Over time, this custom has stuck with us. Not as a luxury, but as a sensible necessity on hot days, especially in the hottest parts of southern Europe. And although it was sometimes viewed with suspicion or misunderstanding from the outside, the truth is that the siesta has been, and continues to be, a very effective form of self-care and well-being.

It's no coincidence that in other cultures we now talk about power naps , conscious breaks, or active rest. But here, without giving it so many names or technical jargon, we've known for centuries: sleeping for a while at midday is healthy.

The ritual of the summer siesta

A silent house, a body that surrenders

There's a pause in summer afternoons that isn't written in any diary, but that we all carry etched in our bodies. It's that sacred moment that begins just after lunch, when the house plunges into a warm silence, broken only by the whirring of the fan and the tireless song of the cicadas outside.

The siesta isn't just a custom: it's a refuge. A break our grandparents taught us in the villages, when the heat was oppressive and there was no choice but to retreat. Retreat not only from the sun, but also from the world.

Cool houses, half-closed blinds and linen sheets

In those houses with half-closed shutters, where the cool air is treasured, the siesta has something of a ritual about it. Voices are lowered, shoes are removed, and everyone finds their own corner: the sofa with its thin cotton bedspread, the cool hallway floor, or the bed with its linen sheets that smell of Lagarto soap, already clean for a lifetime.

I remember that my father, who barely took a nap in the winter, would go to bed in the summer. He'd close the door, lie down, and let the heat overcome him. We children didn't take naps. Or at least not the older ones. The little ones did, of course, but the rest of us had to learn to be quiet, to play quietly, or to watch TV for a while.

And I say look, because there weren't many options. All the cousins sat on the floor, glued to the old television, because there weren't enough sofas for so many of us. I can still feel the coolness of the black and white damask floor, the hum of the fan, and that heavy midday calm… It was all a silent ritual, a sweet wait before digestion was over and we were allowed to go bathe.

Even as time passes, some things never change. And in summer, the siesta continues to mark that invisible boundary between morning and afternoon. It's a pause that organizes the day, dividing it into two gentle halves. A habit we carry with us, even when we no longer have time to practice it.

A break with aroma and memory

We like to think that at Real Fábrica, we continue to care for that moment. That our light blankets , perfect for just a little cover, accompany those brief, blessed naps. That some people light one of our lavender or jasmine candles before lying down, just for the pleasure of letting the scent take them somewhere else. That a good book —one of those we also have in the store—lies half-read on their chest, just when their eyelids can't hold it anymore.

Because there are siestas that aren't just rest. They're reunions with oneself, with the sounds of summer, with the slowness and warmth of homes that hold freshness and memories.

Siesta: a gesture of everyday wisdom

A siesta is the luxury of stopping. Of letting go. And even though it may only last twenty minutes, it has the power to reset everything.

You don't have to travel far or have big plans to enjoy summer. Sometimes, the best part of the day is that quiet hour, when the house falls asleep and time seems to hang there, like a sheet hanging in the sun.

A small tribute to our roots

If you're returning to your hometown this summer, to your parents' house, or to that place that smells like childhood, don't forget to honor your siesta. Put your phone on silent, close your eyes, and let the fan sing in your ear.

Because resting is also an act of self-love. And because, deep down, many of us still believe that there is nothing more ours—or wiser—than a good Spanish siesta.

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