Arrested in Spain

Yes! I ended up in jail in Seville. True, I only sat there for about 20 minutes, but it's the fact that counts. After all, not everyone gets to tour a Spanish prison for free. It all started off normally. I walked Kaja to her stop at Prado de San Sebastián so she could head off to Pablo de Olavide University. I calmly trotted off towards the centre. And that was a mistake!

By the University of Seville I saw a group of students marching and chanting, carrying a huge banner. It promised to be interesting. I slowed down, took out my camera and started taking pictures. Suddenly an elderly, grey-haired gentleman leapt out from behind a palm tree. Enraged like a bull, he hurled himself at the largest banner. He tore it up so quickly that I didn't manage to get a single shot.

A moment later he snatched a flag from one girl and struck her on the head with all his might. The thick wooden pole split into pieces. The girl crashed to the ground with great force, and a pool of blood appeared around her. I stood stunned for a moment. I quickly shoved my camera into my backpack, ran over and pushed the man away. Mechanically I shouted cómo estás?!?!. Unfortunately I didn't hear a reply, because the rebel I had shoved got up and started beating me with what was left of the flagpole.

Only then did the crowd move in and chase the man off. Of course the man fled, the march against Israel went on shouting something, and I followed them to shoot a little video. Near Puerta de Jerez, the thing I least expected happened!

A moment later the men in blue showed up and took me, the injured girl and two other guys to the station. Great! We rode through the city in a patrol car with the siren on! Nice. At the station they took down our details, checked my passport, and then put me in a cell. The Spaniards were saying something, and the girl whispered gracias under her breath. When they wanted something from me, I answered in Polish that I'm a Pole and have no clue what they're talking about. When they heard the magic word "Pole", they both cried out with a smile: Wodecka! Mocne kulwa!. Clearly our countrymen had already introduced them to our cuisine.

The stay in jail didn't last very long. A policeman came into the cell and asked me to step outside. He led me to a room where a woman was sitting who could more or less speak some English. I showed her the photos on my camera and told her what had happened. She asked whether I could copy those photos for them. I happened to have a USB cable on me, so why not. I was free. Unfortunately I didn't really know how to get to the centre, so I asked for directions. The kind policewoman arranged transport for me to the very spot they had picked me up from — in a police patrol car. This time we rode without the siren. A pity, really…