Autor: Jacqueline Tanasic

Previously on “Kitchen Nightmares: Erasmus Edition”…

It’s time. The end. The final boss battle. The DLC nobody asked for, but everyone needed. My Erasmus journey is officially over, and all that’s left are the emotional scars, a few memes, and this last blog post. Let’s unpack this final chaos—literally.

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Packing? A nightmare montage. One thing after another, shoved into bags like I was playing Tetris on hard mode. Every time I thought I was done, boom, “Oh look, another charger I haven’t seen since week 2.” And of course, the Great Hairdryer Drama of Departure Day™. Apparently, I’m Satan himself for not personally handing over the holy blow-drying artifact… that I shared for TWO MONTHS. Sorry I forgot it on the table. You know, the place where it was FREE TO TAKE. Next time, bring your own damn wind cannon.

We cleaned our room like the responsible gremlins we are. Everything else? Ignored. As promised in Blog Episode 14. I stand by my artistic statement: “That mess ain’t mine.”

Keys returned. Goodbye note? Nope. Just my lingering passive aggression.

Then we waited… and waited… and cursed the agency because our taxi driver ghosted us harder than my last situationship. Just when we were about to call an Uber and cry into our carry-ons, boom, he appeared. Kiki. Real name: Enrique. Spanish taxi legend. Cracked jokes, played bangers, gave “cool uncle energy.” Honestly, the perfect farewell.

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Airport Arc – Spain Edition

Check-in? Fast. Boarding pass? Digital supremacy. Security? An actual boss level. Way worse than in Germany. Had to remove every single electronic item into separate boxes like I was Marie Kondo-ing my soul in public. BUT—I survived. Even earned some good karma: helped an elderly woman in a wheelchair who was on our flight. She was sweet. People were kind. I felt like a background character in a heartwarming airport movie.

Pilot gets on the mic like, “Wow, you people are fast. We’re taking off early.” And for the first time in this journey, I was genuinely excited. Home was calling.

Memo to future me: Download more YouTube videos, you idiot. Watching music videos from 2011 on airplane Wi-Fi is not the move.

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Arrival: Heimatland.exe

Luggage? Arrived faster than my will to leave did. I snagged a taxi home and—plot twist—met the coolest woman ever. Liane. Sixty-five years old. Long silver-blonde hair. Blue eyes. Full glam. Red nails. Flowy dress. Motherly aura with a side of “I’ve-seen-some-things.”

She grabbed my suitcase like she’s been training with The Rock and casually asked if she could “duzen” me. I said hell yes, and then she proceeded to drop her entire John Wick x Barbie backstory: 40 years in the chauffeur business, drove limos for politicians, did personal protection, was legit revived after dying once, and somehow is still nicer than 80% of humanity. I told her she’s the coolest badass I’ve ever met—and I meant it.

Made it home. 70 Euros poorer. Greeted by my mom and a plate of spaghetti that tasted like victory.

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So yeah… that’s a wrap.

The Erasmus saga is over. Unless my Ausbilder magically says I missed an entry—in that case, I’ll just fabricate some wild side quest about fighting raccoons or discovering a secret beach cult.

Until then…

Peace out, nerds.
Mic drop.
Fin.

More Videos, pictures and Gifs on my Tumblr Blog: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

Ah yes, welcome back to another episode of Jacky Loses Her Sanity in Real Time – featuring everyone’s favorite side characters: Dirty Dishes, Passive-Aggression, and a surprise cameo by Jerry the Cockroach and His Filthy Friends.

So, what’s new this week? Not much… just the usual descent into madness. I had what the experts call a „crashout“, aka that moment when your soul leaves your body after cleaning the kitchen for the 20th damn time – and somehow, the dishes still multiply like horny gremlins.

Let me paint you a picture: every plate in existence was chilling in the sink like it’s Coachella for dirty dishes. So I did what any unhinged saint would do – I cleaned it all. Wiped the surfaces. Blessed the counters. Even did a TED Talk on why we don’t use the demon-possessed dishwasher, because it literally makes things dirtier.

Next day? The dishwasher was full. Again. Of course. So I repeated myself like a broken record with trust issues.

Then came The Leak. Oh yes. I was finally eating – a rare moment of peace – when I noticed a mysterious brown liquidoozing out of the trash bag like it was auditioning for CSI. It smelled like trauma and looked like a failed science experiment. Ruben, bless him, offered to take out the trash and kindly asked Thaddäus for help. Twice.

And Thaddäus? My man decided it was the perfect time to go play football. And when I dared to suggest maybe he helps out a little, I got hit with:

„You can do it yourself“
„You talk as much as the day is long“

Excuse me?? EXCUSE ME??

If audacity were a currency, this guy could buy Twitter.

But guess what? I cleaned again. Even the cursed dishwasher. AGAIN. I wiped the hellspawn goo. And then I had my villain origin speech:

“I’m not your mother. If I were, you’d be grounded, beaten with a chancla, and sleeping next to that trash bag.”

And now? I’m done. DONE. I will not touch a single toilet streak, dried love stains, or your leftover burrito bits on the shower walls. Nada. I only wanted a clean kitchen so leaving would be easier. But nope. I’m tapping out like it’s WWE and I just took a folding chair to the face.

And just so you know – I will pay back Mrs. Freaney for the deposit she kindly fronted us. Because after the state this place is in? The landlord’s gonna need holy water and a flamethrower.

Oh, and Jerry? Our pet cockroach?
He brought FRIENDS.
They’re hosting a cockroach rave in the drain outside bathroom two. And yeah, in Spain, cockroaches are normal. But not when your apartment looks like it starred in The Ring.

Last fun thing? I got watched by a praying mantis while I was showering. Girl had front row seats. Might as well start selling tickets next time.

Mic drop.
Jacky out.

More audacity and cockroaches here on my Tumblr Blog: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

This weekend… drum roll please… we finally went bowling. Yep. That thing we planned ages ago but life said “Nah.” Well guess what, life? We won this round. Even better? The whole squad showed up. I know. Miracles happen. Someone call the Pope.

We went to this funky little entertainment center — imagine Chuck E. Cheese meets Blade Runner, but with less rat and more arcade neon. It had flashing lights, children’s sticky fingers on every surface, and that beautiful scent of overused bowling shoes and regret.

We rented two lanes like the professional amateurs we are. I personally bowled like a blindfolded flamingo on ice, but hey — at least I’m a beast at paintball. Gotta pick your battles.

Despite the cosmic joke that is my bowling form, we actually had fun. I got to make some cursed but hilarious edits for TikTok. Fanlai’s already going semi-viral, probably because she’s the only one with any actual hand-eye coordination and charisma. Oh, and she brought her Polaroid camera too, and took the kind of pics that would make Tumblr weep. Artsy queens unite.

Later, we headed back home, destroyed some food like starving raccoons, and I thought: “Nice. Time for beauty sleep.”

BUT NO.

Just as I was dozing off, there was a SCREAM. Not the fun horror-movie kind — the real “we-have-a-monster-in-our-house” kind. Yep. Turns out our old friend the cockroach is back. Not a normal one either. This thing looked like it paid rent.

We trapped it under a small bowl. And for extra safety? Placed our giant bottle of fabric softener on top — because this roach looks like it could deadlift. Until further notice, the area is under quarantine.

And that’s the tea for now.
Stay neon, stay weird, and watch where you step.
The floor is lava. Or worse — cockroach turf. 🪳

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For more Videos and pictures of us or, well…the cockroach…here on my Tumblr Blog: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

You know those days where you wake up, go to work, and expect absolutely nothing exciting to happen? Yeah… me too. And this episode is exactly that. Spoiler alert: my life is not an action movie. At best, it’s an experimental student film with no budget and too much existential silence.

So, work. Or should I say “the thrilling adventure of staring at a monitor while no one speaks for 8 hours”. On paper? Our project looks like Iron Man built it. In reality? It’s IKEA furniture with no instructions and missing screws. We’re supposed to help with the web development, but none of us are actual web developers, so… imagine a bunch of housecats trying to build a spaceship. We tried. We failed. We accepted our fate.

The office vibe? Dead silent. Like, “you drop a pen and suddenly feel like you’ve committed war crimes”-silent. The air is so dry and serious, even my sarcasm needs a hydration break.

Now let’s talk about my epically cursed journey to work today. Everything started off normal: me, on time, taking the metro like a functioning adult. Then came the tram. Enter stage left: Grandpa with a broken arm who clearly thought he was starring in “Mission: Impossible – Senior Edition.” He tried to leap into the tram as if salvation was inside. One kind soul pulled the emergency brake to help him. Sweet, right? WRONG. That little red lever apparently kills the tram. We all got kicked out like unwanted side characters after 10 minutes of standing around watching the driver Google “how to un-screw tram.”

Eventually another tram came. I got in. All was well. UNTIL…

Plot twist: the tram yeeted itself away from the tunnel it was supposed to go into. I was like, “Wait a minute… aren’t we supposed to turn left, not into freakin’ Fern-Valencia?” The tram pulled a reverse UNO card on all of us and drove to god-knows-where. The next train back? 30 minutes away.

So I thought, why not turn this disappointment into a detour? Walked around. Found some massive event halls and what I think was a Velodrome. Maybe for swimming? Maybe for ritual sacrifices? Valencia’s wild like that. Also, it was 30 degrees and no shade in sight, so I think I grilled a bit. Pretty sure I leveled up in skin tone—call me Toasted now.

But not everything was doom and sunburn! Earlier this week, I had a heartwarming Facetime call with my bestie (hi boo), plus Jimmy and Flo were there too. A rare, wholesome moment in this sitcom of a life.

P.S. I downloaded Duolingo. You’d think I’m learning Spanish, right? HA. Wrong show. I started learning Mandarin because my brain decided, “Let’s go full chaos.” Fanlai’s helping me with pronunciation and honestly? It’s kind of fun. The grammar’s easier than Spanish. The tones? Manageable. The characters? A beautiful nightmare. But hey—baby steps.

Moral of the story?
Never trust a tram. Never underestimate a grandpa. And when in doubt? Learn Mandarin.

—Over and traumatized,
Jacky.

For more gifs, pictures and videos, here my tumblr blog: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

Weekend again. You know what that means? Forced fun with the squad! This time: Paintball and Go-Karting. Because nothing screams “team bonding” like bruises and whiplash.

Now, I only signed up for Paintball, because spoiler alert: I’m not Elon Musk and both activities cost more than my will to live by Sunday night. So we summoned an Uber—straight to the middle of absolutely nowhere. Like, „if you hear banjos, run“-kind of nowhere. Even the Uber driver looked suspicious. His GPS had a meltdown, took us around in circles twice, then onto countryside roads that screamed “turn around, idiot!”

When we finally arrived, our driver just… drove off into a field. No joke. Straight up went GTA mode. No road, no path—just crop chaos. If he disappeared forever, I’d believe it.

Next to our paintball arena? A horse ranch. But screw horses, we had battles to win. Big shoutout to Fanlai, our MVP who wrestled with the Spanish paperwork using Google Translate like a damn UN translator. And then—war.

Paintball was a blast. And by blast, I mean it was hella hot. The sun grilled us harder than the paintballs did. Under the uniform I was sweating like a chicken nugget in a sauna. Not in a sexy way. In a “my clothes are clinging to my soul” kind of way.

But guess what? My team lost. BUT. I had the most kills. AND the most complaints. Apparently, the other team’s walking around looking like a bag of rotten blueberries. What can I say? I inherited my aim from my mother. A woman who never missed when throwing shoes across the living room.

After that adrenaline-fueled shootout? I was DONE. Uber’d home again—except this driver thought he was in Fast & Furious 12: Uber Drift. Nearly yeeted us into a roundabout portal to Narnia. But hey, I survived. I’m writing this, aren’t I?

Once home, I had zero energy left. Shower? Please. I barely managed to change, refill my water bottle, shut off the lights, and collapse like a used piñata. I even went to bed early. A true war hero’s ending.

Moral of the story?
Don’t mess with someone who plays Paintball like a sniper with unresolved childhood trauma and something to prove.

xoxo Gossip Girl

More Gifs, Pictures and Videos, here on my Tumblr Blog: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

Ah yes, dear degenerates of the internet – it’s your favorite accidental tourist guide slash chaos magnet, back with another blog entry from the land of tapas, techno, and total unpredictability: Valencia, Baby.

This time? I did something wild. I left the apartment. I know, right? Character development. But plot twist – I wasn’t alone. I dragged Thaddäus with me. Poor guy didn’t know what he was signing up for.

Our target? The City of Arts and Sciences – aka that futuristic dreamscape where you half expect Iron Man to swoop in and Da Vinci to fly past on a glider. Specifically, we were there for the Leonardo da Vinci exhibition. Yep, the OG renaissance daddy himself – painter, inventor, beard icon. I teased this trip a while ago, and look! Foreshadowing.

So, we get off the train and face a decision:
Option A: Bus. Crowded, chaotic, smells like disappointment.
Option B: A casual 3km hike through Valencia’s massive park like the broke but artsy adventurers we are.

Guess what we picked. That’s right, Cardio with a view.

Along the way, we encountered:

• Odd metal constructions pretending to be playgrounds,
• Men loitering at fences like they were auditioning for a true crime documentary,
• A skatepark, a fake river, and more trees than I’ve emotionally dealt with since 2003.

Then – boom – the futuristic mega-structure appeared. Picture the Sydney Opera House and a spaceship had a lovechild. That’s where the da Vinci exhibit was. Giant. Confusing. Beautiful. We almost didn’t find the entrance because apparently minimalism also means zero signage.

Inside? Pure nerdvana.
Da Vinci’s inventions, actually built. Gears. Gliders. Gadgets that would make Batman jealous.
And for the measly price of 9 Euros – which is like 2 overpriced lattes – we also got access to:

• A Bio-Dome exhibition with tiny animals (very alive, very adorable),
• A Space Showroom with holograms so cool I tried to high-five Saturn,
• And a „Feel Your Weight on Other Planets“ station, where I discovered I would weigh 0.97 kg on Saturn’s moon. Weight Watchers could never.

To seal the deal? I made a montage for my Tumblr blog, slapped on some emotionally manipulative background music, and voilà – instant art.

So yeah, if you want to combine historical geniuses, galaxy-brain science stuff, and a solid leg workout – this place? 10/10 would recommend. Just skip the bus.

Until next time,
Your part-time tourist,

Jacky

THe cool Video i teasered? here to find on my Tumblr: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

Ah yes, the weekend. The sacred time when one expects peace, quiet, maybe some questionable snacks, and the existential dread of Monday creeping in slowly—not with a bang. But guess what? Bang it was.

Saturday, 8 a.m. (or was it 9? Time lost meaning): I woke up to what I assumed was either my death or the second coming of Pitbull—Mr. Worldwide himself had apparently reincarnated right outside our front door. But no, it was just the neighbors throwing a Spanish rager that made my walls vibrate like I was trapped inside a subwoofer. I wanted to enjoy my day, maybe do something chill, like not go insane. But noooo. DJ Fiesta decided to play reggaeton remixes that even Spotify wouldn’t dare suggest. And just when I thought there was hope—a few decent tracks hit—he ripped them away like my will to live. The beat dropped, and so did my expectations.

Fast forward to midnight, and the party still hadn’t died. But I sure had, spiritually. My room had turned into a bass-throbbing sauna of suffering. I wasn’t sleeping—I was time-traveling through the layers of hell, and apparently, this was Limbo: loud, sweaty, and filled with bad remixes.

Then came Sunday. Sweet, sweet Sunday. A chance to reclaim sanity. A chance to SLEEP IN.

But Valencia said: Nope.
Because BOOM—explosions outside our window. Not just any boom. We’re talking Böllerknaller-level boom. Like someone thought it was a good idea to recreate a Call of Duty intro sequence in real life. I woke up thinking I was back in Berlin… U8 line at 3am. Trauma. Absolute trauma.

And as if fate hadn’t slapped me hard enough, guess whose turn it was to clean the apartment? Yup—me and Flo. So while my soul was still crawling back from bass-induced purgatory, I was scrubbing toilets.

But wait. There’s more. The cherry on this crapcake?

The toilet seat was nasty as ever.
Because of course it was.
Note to self: Don’t have children. Not because I wouldn’t love them. But because I simply can’t handle another toilet seat incident. Ever.

So yeah. Weekend recap: no peace, no sleep, bad music, loud bangs, scrubbing toilets, and shattered dreams. But hey… maybe next weekend I’ll get lucky and only deal with a mild earthquake.

Fingers crossed.

xoxo,
The Queen of Bass-Induced Trauma

More videos and gifs for this blog on my Tumblr: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

So picture this: I was ready. READY, my friends. Bowling shoes? Mentally laced. Vibes? Immaculate. Blog? Half-written in my head, with jokes sharper than the kitchen knife. I thought, „Let’s write about the hilarious bowling night we’re totally gonna have!“

Plot twist: we didn’t.

Two of our comrades-in-chaos decided—last freaking minute—that they’d rather ghost the plan than roll some balls. No explanation. No „sorry, I got kidnapped by aliens“ or „my grandma started breakdancing again, I had to help.“ Just poof. Gone.

And while we stood there, blinking into the void of broken hopes and missing pins… the sky decided it was the perfect moment to cry with us. Enter: downpour deluxe.

BUT—every disaster has its MVP. Enter Thaddäus (yes, like the depressed squid guy from Spongebob), who saw the rain not as an obstacle, but a catwalk. He glided. No, slid through puddles with the grace of a damp gazelle just to go outside and smoke. I swear, someone cue the dramatic music because I’ve never seen nicotine dependency look so elegant.

Aside from that Oscar-worthy performance, not much else happened.
Oh—except the fun twist that some folks still don’t have a job here and are now told to go find one themselves. Even though, you know… the agency was supposed to handle that part. Classic plot development. Let’s see how that side quest unfolds.

And that’s it, folks. The most exciting thing this week was not throwing a bowling ball and watching a squidward reenact a Disney-on-Ice number. Maybe next week, something wild will happen. Like… actually doing something.

Stay tuned. Or don’t. I’m not your mom.

My Tumblr Blog for Videos and gifs….you know…for the little umpf in the blog: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

Hey party people of the internet (and possibly my future self scrolling this at 3 AM eating cereal straight from the box), welcome back to another spicy entry of “What the hell is Jacqueline doing in Spain?”

Spoiler alert: not much. Like seriously, this week was deader than my houseplants back home. BUT WAIT – plot twist – something did happen: I finally got my exam results for the Zwischenprüfung (aka the big scary “do-you-even-know-your-sh*t” test). And guess what?

🎉 I PASSED. WITH. 77 POINTS. 🎉
That’s right. 77. Only 4 tiny points away from a “2” (which for the non-Germans is like… a solid B). But alas, dumb mistakes were made. And yes, father dearest already gave me the traditional “you could’ve done better” sermon. Thanks Dad, love the feedback, please direct all future comments to my agent.

Anyway. Back to work. First day after the exam felt like someone stretched time with a medieval torture device. Until 4 PM. Four. Freaking. Pee. Em. But hey, I got invited to lunch. Yay?
Except – plot twist number two – I didn’t eat much and everyone spoke Spanish the entire time.
Like… what even is polite chewing when you understand 2% of the conversation and nod every 30 seconds to not look lost?

Oh, and then came the Monthly Meeting™️. You know, that thing where they talk about “the future of the project” and pretend we all know what’s happening.
Everyone looked at me like “Crap, the gringa is here.”
And then… bam – I hit ‚em with a “Sorreeyyy 😇” and boom! Room exploded in laughter. You’re welcome for the free comedy show, amigos.

BUT WAIT, there’s a cherry on this chaotic sundae: I actually suggested a new feature for our tourist app! Something for the Nordic peeps – the ones who prefer skiing and freezing their butts off instead of beach bumming in Valencia.
And they actually considered it?! Wild.

Anyway, no pics this week (I know, I know… cue dramatic gasp), BUT I’ve got some juicy GIFs waiting for you on the Tumblr blog.
Hope you like ‚em. If not… well, pretend you do, for my ego’s sake.

Until next time, my beautiful weirdos.
Stay chaotic. Stay hydrated.

Tumblr Blog here: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/

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.

More Blog with pictures and videos here: https://afib-in-spain.tumblr.com/