正文
第二天，我和泰迪拿上旅遊車送給我們的免費券又登上了紅色的雙層巴士。跟在街上徒步旅遊不一樣，即便是坐在一層，旅遊車上的視野也很獨特、開闊，我拍了很多照片。巴士經過西班牙皇宮時，我注意到宮殿前的廣場上看起來有點兒奇怪，空蕩蕩的，周圍還有警車。導遊介紹了皇宮和Almudena大教堂。與世界各國的宮殿不同，西班牙皇宮不僅僅是一座博物館，還仍然用於官方儀式和招待會。導遊還用西語和英語說了些什麽，可我沒注意聽。
當巴士轉了一圈再次經過皇宮時，我和泰迪下車了。參觀完大教堂（天主教馬德裏總教區的主教座堂）之後，我們興衝衝地向皇宮走去。我背上背著一個黑色的小背包。
快到皇宮時，我發現宮殿的前門關了。當時已經快到中午了，通常宮殿應該早開門兒了。我跟泰迪說，我去問問皇宮是否開放。我走到側門門口，看到一男一女兩位警察。女警察很和善，英文也很流利，向我解釋說：“宮殿今天關門了，有官方活動。明天再來吧，應該在正常的時間開放。”我跟她道了謝，轉身去找泰迪。
我隻顧走路、尋找泰迪了，忽然，一個穿著短褲和T恤的年輕人攔住了我。我抬頭一看，他長得很高，戴著一副墨鏡，留著連鬢胡須，還梳著一個馬尾，一個耳朵上還掛著耳機。“哇，是個美國朋克，”我想，“他要幹嗎？光天化日之下，劫財還是綁人？”朋克小夥開口了，聽起來像是命令我：“I am secret police. I want to interview you. (我是秘密警察，要麵試你。)”他的英文雖然蹩腳，還是能聽懂。“秘密警察，請我‘喝茶’？”我吃了一驚，也很困惑，但是馬上就鎮靜了下來，裝著很勇敢的樣子，反問道：“可以看看你的身份證嗎？”他從T恤口袋裏拿出一個黑色的、月票夾子似的東西，在我眼前晃了晃。我什麽都沒看清，有點兒害怕了。情急之下我想到了那兩個警察，對朋克小夥說：“我不相信你，我要找警察。”於是，轉身去找警察阿姨、叔叔救我。誰知那個朋克小夥沒有消失，反而跟著我走了過去。在我張口求救之前，朋克小夥開始用西語和警察嘰裏咕嚕地交談起來，他們顯然交換了一些信息。然後男警察跟我說，朋克小夥想知道我背包裏有什麽。
至此，泰迪已經注意到了正在發生的事件，趕過來救我。他幫我拿下背包，打開讓他們檢查。泰迪一邊把包裏的東西一件、一件地拿出來，一邊解釋說：“沒有什麽要緊的，就是一瓶水，一個香蕉和大教堂的紀念品。”檢查完背包後，朋克小夥鬆馳下來。我問他：“你一直在跟著我嗎？”他點了點頭。警察阿姨看到我還是一頭霧水、不明白是怎麽回事，於是耐心地解釋說：“你看，遊客們都把包包放在胸前。而你卻把你的包包背在後麵。”我心裏有些不服，我這個是背包，就是要背在背上呀，我不怕小偷。雖然警察阿姨沒有挑明，我終於還是明白了。今天國王、王後在皇宮裏接見貴賓，四周布滿了特工和警察，他們格外小心。那個朋克小夥老遠盯上了我這個個別另樣的，就把我當成恐怖分子了。
所以，出於國家安全和個人財產的考慮，馬德裏不允許有背包，各種包包一律要掛在胸前。這真是一個大笑話！如此奇遇，怎可輕易了之，我得留一個紀念。看著警察和朋克小夥還在跟泰迪糾纏著我的背包，我跟他們說，“來，拍張照片吧！”警察阿姨反應迅速，立即喝道：“No photos! (不許拍照)”在她吐出最後一個音節之前，我已經按下了快門。
我把背包放在胸前，再三感謝了二位警察和朋克小夥，轉身和泰迪離開皇宮，奔向下一個旅遊景點。晚上回到酒店，觀賞當天的照片。哇，我發現了那張隨手按下去的照片，真正是一個傑出的紀念品。每一次看到它，我都不會忘記這次在馬德裏與秘密警察的危險接觸。
這次曆險得到教訓是：
（1）馬德裏不允許有背包，包包要掛在胸前，防小偷也避免不必要的誤會。
（2）遇事不要驚慌，找警察叔叔阿姨幫忙。
（1）馬德裏不允許有背包，包包要掛在胸前，防小偷也避免不必要的誤會。
（2）遇事不要驚慌，找警察叔叔阿姨幫忙。
Adventures in Madrid (Part II) – I was almost Arrested by Secret Police
The next day Ted and I went out for a free Red Bus tour with our vouchers. It was a great view and we took a lot of pictures that would be difficult to get on foot. When our bus passed the Royal Palace, I noticed that the plaza looked a bit odd. It was almost empty, and there were police cars around. The tour guide introduced the Royal Palace and Almudena Cathedral. Unlike other palaces around the world, the Spanish Royal Palace is not just a museum. It is a working palace for official ceremonies and receptions. He also said something in English and Spanish, but I did not get it.
When the bus came back to the Palace stop again, we got off. After a quick tour of the Cathedral, which is the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Madrid, we walked to the palace. I carried my small, black backpack on my back.
I noticed that the front gate of the palace was closed when I got to closer. It was pretty late in the morning, so the palace by now should have been open. I told Ted that I’d like to check it out when it would be open. I walked to a policewoman by the gate. She was very nice and explained to me, “The Palace is closed today for an official ceremony. Come back tomorrow. It should be open around normal hours.” I thanked her and turned around, walking back to find Ted.
Before I reached Ted, a young man in T-shirt and long shorts stopped me. I looked up him. He’s tall, wearing a pair of sunglasses, full-beard, and a pony-tail. “An American punk kid, what does he want from me?” I thought. He opened his mouth, sounding like he was ordering me: “I am secret police. I want to interview you.” His English was understandable, but his tone scared and confused me. I immediately demanded: “May I see your ID?” He pulled out a black, badge-like folder from his shirt pocket and waved it in front of my eyes. I did not see anything and replied: “I want to get help.” I then walked to the gate, where I saw the policewoman and a policeman. The punk kid did not go away but followed me over. Before I could explain anything, he started talking to the police in Spanish apparently exchanging information. Then the policeman told me that the punk kid wanted to know what’s in my backpack.
By now Ted had noticed the incident and came to my rescue. He helped me take down my backpack and opened it for examination. “Nothing important, just a bottle of water, a banana, and souvenirs from the Cathedral,” he explained. After checking the backpack over, the punk kid eased a bit. I asked him, “You have been following me, haven’t you?” He nodded. The policewoman figured out that I was in the dark. She explained, “You see, the tourists all have their purses or backpacks in the front. You had your backpack on your back.” But it was a backpack and meant to be on my back, I thought.
Okay, I figured it out at last. The Spanish dignities were gathering in the palace. The police and secret agents were everywhere monitoring the surroundings. The punk kid spotted me, who was moving around as such an unusual tourist. So, I was suspected to be a terrorist!
Madrid does not allow backpacks, for national security and personal property protection. What a big joke! I wanted to have a souvenir. Seeing the policeman and punk kid were still talking about my backpack, I told them, "Let me take a photo." The policewoman responded immediately, “No photos!” Before she finished her last word, I already clicked on the shutter.
I placed my backpack in the front and thanked the police and the punk kid. Ted and I left for our next tourist spot.
When we got back to the hotel, I discovered the instant photo turned out to be a great souvenir. I will never forget my encounter with the secret police in Madrid!
Lessons learned:
(1) Backpacks are front-packs in Madrid
(2) Do not panic and trust police
When the bus came back to the Palace stop again, we got off. After a quick tour of the Cathedral, which is the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Madrid, we walked to the palace. I carried my small, black backpack on my back.
I noticed that the front gate of the palace was closed when I got to closer. It was pretty late in the morning, so the palace by now should have been open. I told Ted that I’d like to check it out when it would be open. I walked to a policewoman by the gate. She was very nice and explained to me, “The Palace is closed today for an official ceremony. Come back tomorrow. It should be open around normal hours.” I thanked her and turned around, walking back to find Ted.
Before I reached Ted, a young man in T-shirt and long shorts stopped me. I looked up him. He’s tall, wearing a pair of sunglasses, full-beard, and a pony-tail. “An American punk kid, what does he want from me?” I thought. He opened his mouth, sounding like he was ordering me: “I am secret police. I want to interview you.” His English was understandable, but his tone scared and confused me. I immediately demanded: “May I see your ID?” He pulled out a black, badge-like folder from his shirt pocket and waved it in front of my eyes. I did not see anything and replied: “I want to get help.” I then walked to the gate, where I saw the policewoman and a policeman. The punk kid did not go away but followed me over. Before I could explain anything, he started talking to the police in Spanish apparently exchanging information. Then the policeman told me that the punk kid wanted to know what’s in my backpack.
By now Ted had noticed the incident and came to my rescue. He helped me take down my backpack and opened it for examination. “Nothing important, just a bottle of water, a banana, and souvenirs from the Cathedral,” he explained. After checking the backpack over, the punk kid eased a bit. I asked him, “You have been following me, haven’t you?” He nodded. The policewoman figured out that I was in the dark. She explained, “You see, the tourists all have their purses or backpacks in the front. You had your backpack on your back.” But it was a backpack and meant to be on my back, I thought.
Okay, I figured it out at last. The Spanish dignities were gathering in the palace. The police and secret agents were everywhere monitoring the surroundings. The punk kid spotted me, who was moving around as such an unusual tourist. So, I was suspected to be a terrorist!
Madrid does not allow backpacks, for national security and personal property protection. What a big joke! I wanted to have a souvenir. Seeing the policeman and punk kid were still talking about my backpack, I told them, "Let me take a photo." The policewoman responded immediately, “No photos!” Before she finished her last word, I already clicked on the shutter.
I placed my backpack in the front and thanked the police and the punk kid. Ted and I left for our next tourist spot.
When we got back to the hotel, I discovered the instant photo turned out to be a great souvenir. I will never forget my encounter with the secret police in Madrid!
Lessons learned:
(1) Backpacks are front-packs in Madrid
(2) Do not panic and trust police
評論
aubonpain
2017-08-01 07:51:18
回複
悄悄話
也許我去的馬德裏是假的，博主咋那麽多奇特的經曆呢？
登錄後才可評論.
