第二天，我和泰迪拿上旅游车送给我们的免费券又登上了红色的双层巴士。跟在街上徒步旅游不一样，即便是坐在一层，旅游车上的视野也很独特、开阔，我拍了很多照片。巴士经过西班牙皇宫时，我注意到宫殿前的广场上看起来有点儿奇怪，空荡荡的，周围还有警车。导游介绍了皇宫和Almudena大教堂。与世界各国的宫殿不同，西班牙皇宫不仅仅是一座博物馆，还仍然用于官方仪式和招待会。导游还用西语和英语说了些什么，可我没注意听。
当巴士转了一圈再次经过皇宫时，我和泰迪下车了。参观完大教堂（天主教马德里总教区的主教座堂）之后，我们兴冲冲地向皇宫走去。我背上背着一个黑色的小背包。
快到皇宫时，我发现宫殿的前门关了。当时已经快到中午了，通常宫殿应该早开门儿了。我跟泰迪说，我去问问皇宫是否开放。我走到侧门门口，看到一男一女两位警察。女警察很和善，英文也很流利，向我解释说：“宫殿今天关门了，有官方活动。明天再来吧，应该在正常的时间开放。”我跟她道了谢，转身去找泰迪。
我只顾走路、寻找泰迪了，忽然，一个穿着短裤和T恤的年轻人拦住了我。我抬头一看，他长得很高，戴着一副墨镜，留着连鬓胡须，还梳着一个马尾，一个耳朵上还挂着耳机。“哇，是个美国朋克，”我想，“他要干吗？光天化日之下，劫财还是绑人？”朋克小伙开口了，听起来像是命令我：“I am secret police. I want to interview you. (我是秘密警察，要面试你。)”他的英文虽然蹩脚，还是能听懂。“秘密警察，请我‘喝茶’？”我吃了一惊，也很困惑，但是马上就镇静了下来，装着很勇敢的样子，反问道：“可以看看你的身份证吗？”他从T恤口袋里拿出一个黑色的、月票夹子似的东西，在我眼前晃了晃。我什么都没看清，有点儿害怕了。情急之下我想到了那两个警察，对朋克小伙说：“我不相信你，我要找警察。”于是，转身去找警察阿姨、叔叔救我。谁知那个朋克小伙没有消失，反而跟着我走了过去。在我张口求救之前，朋克小伙开始用西语和警察叽里咕噜地交谈起来，他们显然交换了一些信息。然后男警察跟我说，朋克小伙想知道我背包里有什么。
至此，泰迪已经注意到了正在发生的事件，赶过来救我。他帮我拿下背包，打开让他们检查。泰迪一边把包里的东西一件、一件地拿出来，一边解释说：“没有什么要紧的，就是一瓶水，一个香蕉和大教堂的纪念品。”检查完背包后，朋克小伙松驰下来。我问他：“你一直在跟着我吗？”他点了点头。警察阿姨看到我还是一头雾水、不明白是怎么回事，于是耐心地解释说：“你看，游客们都把包包放在胸前。而你却把你的包包背在后面。”我心里有些不服，我这个是背包，就是要背在背上呀，我不怕小偷。虽然警察阿姨没有挑明，我终于还是明白了。今天国王、王后在皇宫里接见贵宾，四周布满了特工和警察，他们格外小心。那个朋克小伙老远盯上了我这个个别另样的，就把我当成恐怖分子了。
所以，出于国家安全和个人财产的考虑，马德里不允许有背包，各种包包一律要挂在胸前。这真是一个大笑话！如此奇遇，怎可轻易了之，我得留一个纪念。看着警察和朋克小伙还在跟泰迪纠缠着我的背包，我跟他们说，“来，拍张照片吧！”警察阿姨反应迅速，立即喝道：“No photos! (不许拍照)”在她吐出最后一个音节之前，我已经按下了快门。
我把背包放在胸前，再三感谢了二位警察和朋克小伙，转身和泰迪离开皇宫，奔向下一个旅游景点。晚上回到酒店，观赏当天的照片。哇，我发现了那张随手按下去的照片，真正是一个杰出的纪念品。每一次看到它，我都不会忘记这次在马德里与秘密警察的危险接触。
这次历险得到教训是：
（1）马德里不允许有背包，包包要挂在胸前，防小偷也避免不必要的误会。
（2）遇事不要惊慌，找警察叔叔阿姨帮忙。
（1）马德里不允许有背包，包包要挂在胸前，防小偷也避免不必要的误会。
（2）遇事不要惊慌，找警察叔叔阿姨帮忙。
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
