Not the best day but makes for a good story!

casablanca evening

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My strange (and usually unhelpful) sixth sense came to the fore on the day we arrived in Seville. We parked in a busy road near some big department stores and walked the short distance to the historic centre of town. It was busy and chaotic, and I could not relax and shake a nagging worry about the car. We looked at the impressive Cathedral and its lovely gardens, but I insisted we return to the car. With a feeling of dread we turned into the street where we parked it - and sure enough we could see even from that distance that the back hatch was open. As we ran closer we saw the two burly men in leather jackets looking around inside the back of the car. We rushed up to them but they flashed ID cards and told us they were plain-clothed police and had scared off thieves who were in the process of picking the lock. Nothing was missing because we had nothing of value except the passports and money we always carried with us. They wanted me to get into their car and have XXX follow in our car, but I wasn’t keen on that. So I crouched in the back of our car while the cop directed XXX how to drive to the police station. When we got there I felt I could finally believe they were police (and could let go of the knife from the cooking box I had been clutching).
We had to make statements (through a translator) so they could charge the thieves . The policemen were lovely, but we left town immediately.