Love Around the World 01: Andorra

A/N - Hello. This is a new series of stories I've had ideas about writing. Twenty-six letters of the alphabet lead to twenty-six stories. A is for Andorra, B will be for somewhere else in the world, and so on and so forth, all the way to the letter Z. Some stories will be based on cities or countries I've visited. If a story is set in Europe, there's a good chance I've been there. Figuring out places and settings for letters such as Q and X was rather difficult and required more imagination than others...

Stories written for this series are in the following categories:

Incest (6 stories)

Interracial (5 stories)

Mature (5 stories)

Transgender (5 stories)

Romance (3 stories)

Anal (1 story)

Group Sex (1 story)

Basically, the same categories I've written at least one story for in the past.

A couple more things. For all twenty-six stories, the name of the MC is Mark, and it generally revolves around him travelling. Based on my life in a way as I spent nearly two decades travelling to some of the places mentioned. For those who have read some of my stories, that's a name I frequently use. And most stories are between 10k to 15k words. I think that's around four to five pages on this website.

Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.

Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.

Comments are appreciated as always.

Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.

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A May-December romance in the heart of the Pyrenees

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The best decision of my life was graduating from high school and ensuring I completed a degree in finance and business because I knew even in those days that the way to make money was to get into the finance industry. The next best decision of my life was graduating with my degree, working my arse off for two years in my hometown city of Sydney before applying for a visa and flying over to London.

The United Kingdom was still part of the European Union at the time I arrived with a backpack on my back, a few thousand dollars in my bank account, and a job already lined up in Canary Wharf, the beating heart of most financial institutions when it came to being based in Europe and taking advantage of the single market. Though I intended to enjoy my time in London and Europe as a whole, my sole focus was on making money. I wanted to live comfortably and retire early if possible. London was the centre of European finance and banking, and if you were young and ambitious, the world could be your oyster. I was just one of thousands with the same ambitions, of course.

It's a cutthroat industry and I had no problem trampling over anyone around or in front of me to ensure I moved up the corporate ladder. I wasn't in the business of making friends. I was there to make money. The British Pound at the time was still as strong as ever. We dealt in those, US Dollars, Euros, Japanese Yen and what felt like hundreds of other currencies. I'd arrived on a visa, the company I worked for sponsored a further visa, and I was a resident of the United Kingdom after five years.

They say money doesn't buy happiness. While it might not make some people happy, it certainly makes life a little easier and more comfortable, particularly if you know how to play the game. By the time I was thirty, I'd been living in London for seven years. I had no real intention of settling down. I had a few girlfriends but hadn't really met someone I wanted to spend a long-term relationship with. Weekdays were long, starting early and finishing late each and every day, though I was fortunate enough now that I could work from home or elsewhere other than the office. Weekends were spent with mates either at the football (soccer) or down the pub.

I avoided some of the vices that other traders and bankers dabbled in. Many young men in the industry were massive cokeheads. There were jokes that the water in the Thames would probably fail a drug test. The term 'work hard and play hard' usually means the company will work you until you pretty much drop dead at your desk. Hitting thirty, I could see the writing on the wall already. I enjoyed what I did, and it had made me comfortable. A nice apartment. I didn't need a car living in London. I could travel wherever I wanted in comfort. Most of my friends were still single though slowly but surely marrying off and starting families. Bachelor parties were usually a weekend somewhere in a European capital. Think Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague...

By the time I was thirty-five, I was ten years in the industry and feeling a little burnt out. I was making money hand over first but when a friend of mine, who was only five years older, nearly dropped dead from a heart attack at his desk one afternoon, it certainly made me feel a little more circumspect.

"Is the stress really worth it, Mark?" James asked me one Saturday at the pub as we watched the early afternoon kick-off, "How much money have you got in the bank now?"

"Enough that I could easily quit and go travel for a while without worrying about needing to budget."

"Rent out your apartment while you're gone?"

"Hell, I could charge more than what I pay for my mortgage considering the rising prices."

"You've spoken more than once about wanting to go on a European road trip."

"I've honestly had enough," Brian stated, "We're all making good money, and so I don't want to sound all socialist, but we're working our arses off and making far more money for other people, including the dickheads we work for."

No matter where you work, the people in charge are always dickheads, even if they're genuinely not that bad. And being Australians, we had a general dislike of authority anyway. London was still full of Australians though I'd noticed over the years since my arrival that it was changing. Instead of Aussies, Kiwis or Saffers (South Africans) behind the bar or working the kitchen in a pub, it was now Poles, Portuguese and Lithuanians. We certainly hear far more different languages nowadays.

"I'll give it some thought. Maybe put together some sort of plan."

"I'd love to do a driving tour of Europe," Craig said almost wistfully, "But given I'm married, and the lady wants to start a family..."

"You're only thirty-five, Mark," James said, "Wouldn't you rather be young enough to at least enjoy some of the wealth you've accumulated? And I reckon it would be better to do a lot of this travel you've always had a hankering to do. Still interested in hitting the clubs and shit?"

"Sort of... I guess," I replied, "We've already done most of the capitals so it would be a case of finding other places that would interest me. Old cities. Parks and natural wonders. That sort of stuff."

It was food for thought, and with each passing week, I started to write a list of countries and cities I would like to visit. I'd spend most nights on the internet researching areas that might interest me. I'd always been interested in history and on those bachelor weekends away, while my friends were snoozing away their hangovers, I'd be up early to join a walking tour before wandering around myself, taking photos, enjoying a drink at a café, waiting for my friends to join me...

I waited another year as I put together my travel plans. I definitely wanted to drive as although transport links are fantastic around some parts of Europe, I wanted to drive down the B-roads of France and stop in those quaint little villages, find myself off the beaten path in Germany, or end up on a road to nowhere somewhere in eastern Europe. I might rely on trains and buses if I were to base myself somewhere for a week or longer, but to get from A to B, I figured a car would be the best bet.

I had been tempted to tell my boss that I was going to travel and work remotely. When I sat him down one afternoon and told him what I was doing, he even offered that to me. Asking how long I planned on travelling; I admitted it would likely be indefinitely. When I explained all my plans, he actually chuckled, shaking his head.

"Sounds like you won't be coming back at all, Mark."

"I've got my apartment and that will either be my home again in the future or it'll remain an asset. I could always work remotely in the future, or I'll just come back and start working again."

"When do you plan on leaving?"

"Sometime early in the new year after Christmas. I'd like to be travelling southern Europe during the summer. Might be a reminder of Sydney in a way with the heat and humidity."

"Better than a London summer anyway," he muttered, "Well, as usual, just make sure you put your resignation in with plenty of time. Rest assured, if you were to go elsewhere if you were to return, we'll give you one hell of a recommendation. But if you do come back..."

"I'll certainly come here first and see what you have to offer."

"Will you keep your finger on the pulse, at least?"

"I'll certainly be dabbling with my personal funds though I've ensured most of my money is protected and earning interest."

The English drive on the left side with the driver on the right side of the car. I didn't want to drive a car like that in Europe, where they all drive on the right with the driver sitting to the left, so I went looking online for a car. Given some of the cities I planned on visiting, I didn't want a massive sedan or any sort of SUV. I wanted a small two-door car that still came with plenty of power, and I eventually found a relatively new Volkswagen Gold with very few miles on the clock and only one previous owner, who had driven the car over from the Netherlands, settled in the UK and bought a UK registered vehicle.

It took time to sort everything out. After resigning from work, I needed to sort out car insurance while also needing health insurance. I relied on the NHS while in the United Kingdom, but just in case I did have an accident, I wanted to ensure I had immediate care. Sorting out my apartment was easy as I just left everything in the hands of a reputable estate agent nearby. My passport was current and with plenty of time until it needed renewal. Nowhere I was travelling required me to have a visa, and even if I did need one eventually, most of the time it could be sorted out online and it would be electronic.

A couple of nights before I would be driving down to Dover to catch the cross-channel ferry to Calais, I had one last gathering with my friends. They admitted to being jealous but knew I'd been putting these plans off since I'd stepped foot on UK soil. We'd all worked hard in the industry, all of us successful and probably richer than we could have imagined, and while they were comfortable living their own lives, I was now feeling that desire to go explore.

"You'll keep in touch, right?" James asked.

"I hate social media, but I have signed up for one or two for an app on my phone," I replied, "And you're all welcome to come and join me if I'm somewhere you can fly into."

Brian snorted. "Please, like you'll want any of us there ruining the vibe. And knowing you well enough, you'll be interested in the ladies."

They all shared a glance before Craig stated, "He's coming back with a Polish wife. Guarantee it."

My two other friends laughed. "So many British men are marrying Polish birds..."

Departing London early on a Monday morning, ensuring it was before peak hour, so I didn't get caught in too much traffic. There was a line for the ferry though it was flowing smoothly. The trip across the channel wasn't as bad as I feared though the weather in early March was as expected otherwise. Docking in Calais, I hopped onto the motorway heading west as I intended to explore northern then western France before crossing the border into Spain.

I spent at least six weeks travelling around Spain and Portugal. The north of Spain was completely unexpected as it was green and lush. Sure, I'd done my research, but I think when most people think of Spain, it's of further south where it's dry, sunny and, well, a lot browner and arid. It was interesting going from one region to the other and seeing how different they were. Bilbao, the capital of the Basque region, was gorgeous, left amused as it's obvious they are Basque first and an incredibly distant Spanish second.

Heading over to the western region of Galicia after stopping in Asturias, I drove south into Portugal and absolutely loved the place, not only stopping in the major centres of Porto and Lisbon but stopping in various little towns and villages along the sea. Driving into southern Spain, I made sure to follow the usual tourist trail while stopping in smaller towns usually avoided by backpackers and travellers in more of a hurry, eventually arriving in Barcelona, left understanding why the locals were annoyed by the influx of millions of tourists, before heading north-west to Zaragoza.

I planned on crossing the Pyrenees again back into southern France. During my research and putting together an idea of a general route of where I'd like to go, I definitely had the idea of ensuring I visited all the tiny countries that were dotted around Europe, and one of those countries is the tiny principality of Andorra.

The drive into Andorra from Spain was beautiful, following the main route as I planned on staying in the capital, Andorra la Vella, and deciding what to do from there. I'd mixed up where I'd been staying so far. AirBnB was still affordable in those days though I did treat myself to stays in some rather nice hotels. I would have liked to stay in a hostel or two though only if I could get a private room and the place wasn't a notorious party hostel.

Arriving at my hotel in the early afternoon, my first port of call was the tourist office. I was aware there would be numerous tours I could take the next day, but I was intent on taking in some of the hikes that could prove rather strenuous but rewarding with spectacular views and scenery. I generally avoided taking tourist buses, preferring to explore by foot though I'd happily take a walking tour or two, but I knew that might prove difficult considering the sites were spread far apart.

I eventually decided to take one tour, see how I was feeling afterwards, and might look at another itinerary for another day. Asking about hiking, the lady behind the counter was full of information, providing me with a map of hiking trails, giving me ideas on the best to do, and how I could get there.

Walking into the city after enjoying dinner at the hotel, I learned there wasn't exactly much nightlife in Andorra la Vella. Granted, most visitors were probably there for shopping as everything was duty-free. I did find a couple of small bars where I could order a cerveza. I'd made sure I learned a few words of Catalan as that was the lingua franca of Andorra.

Arriving at the bus stop the next day for my tour, I smiled to myself as it was obvious that I was going to be the youngest by at least twenty years, or so it seemed. I was boarded and the minibus about to depart when one last woman joined us, talking to the tour guide before she glanced around, and her eyes met mine. She smiled as she walked towards where I was sitting at the rear, the older folks all choosing to sit close to the front.

She spoke to me in either Spanish or Catalan. My blank look made her laugh. "English?" she asked.

"Australian," I replied.

Watching her eyes light up amused me. Let's be honest, English tourists are not exactly loved across much of Europe. As for Australians, we did have a reputation too though I'd found people were far friendlier and willing to speak English once I told them where I was from, and I'd tried at least a few words in the local lingo.

"Australian?" she asked, taking a seat next to me as the bus moved off, "What brings you to Andorra of all places?"

"I'm on a tour of Europe and I couldn't travel between France and Spain without stopping here to visit."

"Any reason in particular?"

"Hiking. Sure, I love visiting towns and cities, taking in the sights before sitting back at a café and people-watching." Noticing her smile, I offered my hand. "I'm Mark. Nice to meet you."

She took my hand, feeling how soft it was in my palm. "Delighted. I'm Sofia."

"Was that Spanish or Catalan you were talking to me in?"

"Ah, that was Catalan. I was born in Catalonia." It amused me that she said Catalonia and not Spain. I also didn't miss that she immediately moved to sit next to me. "Though this is my first time here."

"Really?"

"I've travelled extensively, but yes, I've never been here before."

As the minibus wound its way across various parts of Andorra, we did end up visiting a winery, following a nature trail, and stopped to look at the ruins of an old church, and various other historical sites, and it ended up being a rather long day. Given that the tour guide, Elena, didn't speak a lot of English and the others on the tour spoke only Spanish or Catalan, Sofia ended up being the translator for me. When we stopped for lunch, I offered to buy her lunch, earning a grateful thank you before we sat at our own table.

"So you're travelling Europe. How long for?" she finally asked.

"Not sure, to be honest. Part of me would love to stay indefinitely though I probably can't afford that."

"How are you getting about?"

"Mostly by car though I'll hope on a train or bus to travel short distances. I've already done that a few times."

"Are you staying in Andorra long?"

"No idea," I admitted, "I just have an idea of where I'd like to go, some vague plan I do have written down. I usually have up to half a dozen places in each country I want to visit. Other than that, I'll just head wherever takes my fancy. How long are you here?"

"I can stay as long as I want."

"Oh, why is that?"

"Well, I'm mostly retired and don't need to work."

"Really? I know how this might sound, but you don't look old enough to have retired, Sofia."

That earned a smile before her hand rested on mine as it lay on the table. "How old are you?" she wondered.

"Thirty-six. I turn thirty-seven later this year."

"I'm fifty-three."

Feeling my eyebrows rise, I stated, "Really? Wouldn't have thought..."

"Younger or older?"

"I figured later forties... But then again, I'm bad at guessing ages anyway..."

She left her hand resting on me as the smile faded for a moment. "Mark, would you join me for dinner tonight?"

"Sure."

"I'm staying in a small place in the middle of Andorra la Vella. It's a sort of hostel, sort of hotel. I like being around young people. Probably the oldest there by over twenty-five years!"

"Let me know where it is, and I can meet you there when the tour is finished."

We spent the rest of the afternoon together, and I don't think it went unnoticed that we spent the entire time together. Every time we were back on the bus, Sofia sat close to me and when she took hold of my hand, I glanced into her brown eyes to see her glance my way before looking forward. Her dark blonde wavy hair was down past her ears though not quite to her shoulders. She wasn't stick-thin but was clearly fit as she'd kept up with the pace of walking easy. Her tight t-shirt did show off a bust and her shorts did show off a pair of tanned legs with sensible walking shoes on her feet.

With the tour concluded later that afternoon, I thanked the tour guide as always. Sofia gave me the name of the place she was staying and the address, agreeing to meet at 7pm. I'd already chanced a peak at her left hand and hadn't seen a ring on her finger, but I'll admit I was slightly taken aback by her interest in me.