It took me a few phone calls to make the decision. The hardest part was lifting my mood. What made me decide on going to Switzerland was: 1. I cannot stay longer in the Schengen Area, so I had to choose wisely what could be my last region for the next 3 months, and 2. Jessica was there, and God knows when I will see her again since she has to depart from the Schengen area.

I think I am crazy for this Bahamian girl. Am I following in my uncle’s footsteps?

My grandma would be amazed knowing that their grandchild and possible great-grandchild had Bahamian blood.

I didn’t want to ask Jessica about Pietro, just for me to feel valuable, expecting that Jessica would read my mind. I was genuinely jealous and overthought a lot if he would be around. But in the end, I managed to ask her about him.

“I don’t know why you care, but he is in Italy,” she texted back. That message left me with more questions than answers. Are they polyamorists or something? However, it felt good not to deal with my insecurities during my stance in Switzerland. I’ll try to understand this better when I see her.

So, I took a bus and a train to reach Bologna and then another 9-hour bus until Geneva.

I stayed 24 hours in Bologna. I didn’t do much there. A guy who met me in San Marino mentioned that Bologna was the city full of the three “T”: Towers, Tortellini and Tits. The first one wasn’t difficult to notice; the town holds many medieval towers. My hostel was a few blocks away from Le Due Torri, the city’s main tourist attraction.

Next, I went to a trattoria to have good tortellini. But, I couldn’t find any particular taste in the dish I got at the place where I went. Nothing different from Montreal’s trattorias. Next time I am in Bologna, I will try to go with an Italian friend to guide me better. It was interesting to learn that there is an ongoing political and religious fight in Italy about the filling of tortellini: pork vs chicken. Some claim chicken tortellini are not traditional and they are just to please Muslims. From a Canadian prospective sounded quite silly.

The third T was difficult to notice on girls, and I wasn’t focusing but thinking in Jessica. Later on, I learned from a guy that shared a vino della casa with me at the trattoria that the third “T” might have come after the Nereids of the Neptune’s Fountain. So I went there and didn’t find it attractive at all. It reminded me of Katy Perry at the end of the California Gurls’ video.

It was precious to come by Flixbus to Geneva as I could see the beauty of the Italian and Swiss highways and appreciate the landscape surrounding them. I arrived at the Geneva Central Bus Station and hoped that Jessica was waiting for me, but no. She didn’t even ask how I was supposed to come. This Bahamian girl really makes me feel insecure.

So I walked around the station and started listening to French again. Since I was in Québec a few months ago, I haven’t listened to French on the streets. It was nice to hear the Swiss accent.

I stopped in a Starbucks and ordered a classic macchiato. The guys behind the desk asked me where I had learned French “nice accent, bro.” I didn’t have an answer. I wanted to say “at home,” but I assume people are not used to Quebecoise here. I swear I tried to fake the Metropolitan accent the best I could.

A few minutes after my first sip of the macchiato, Jessica arrived.

“Let’s unpack your stuff at the hotel and have a nice conversation, Benjamin Gunst,” she said.

This weekend is going to be exciting.

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