So I said it, didn’t I? “The Germans are coming.” And no, I wasn’t making a war joke—our trainers actually flew in from the land of bratwurst and bureaucracy just to visit us and get a taste of our incredibly professional internships here in sunny Valencia.
Well… kinda. Technically, they came to visit me and Ruben. Because the others? Either off-duty, mysteriously sick, or pulling a Houdini on the whole work experience. Classic.
Anyway, their first stop was our university. And what a place! They met the mighty professors who command the great AI-powered tourist app project—aka, my life now. We even gave them a quick tour, and oh boy, hold onto your brains: they’ve got a full-on VR room, a motion capture lab, and a multimedia studio with a monster green screen. I’m talking Hollywood-level wizardry. Did we take pictures? Of course not. Forbidden. Top-secret. Government-level security. (Or they just don’t trust us with cameras.)
Then came the real field trip. I took the two on a magical journey to a burger joint disguised as a laundromat. Yeah, you read that right. Imagine grabbing your food from a freaking washing machine. I’ve never eaten anything that close to freshly rinsed socks, but hey—YOLO, right?
Since no one from the agency responded (hello? anyone home?), we ended up giving our trainers the grand tour of our apartment. They said it was cozy. COZY. I mean, sure, if sleeping on a mattress that screams „back pain 24/7“ counts as cozy. I swear, if they stayed here another night, they’d both be booking chiropractor appointments faster than you can say “Herniated disc.”
And of course, no German-in-Spain saga would be complete without trying paella by the beach. Not bad, honestly. Tasted like sunshine and burnt rice in all the right ways. And let me tell you—Mr. Gierschner and his never-ending dad jokes? Almost killed me. Laughed so hard, I saw the digital afterlife. Worth it.
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