Another short one..

I was living just outside of the small town Campello, midway between the Spanish cities of Alicante and Benidorm.. Staying in a bungalow, one of about 15, part of a small housing community populated for the most part by ex-pats.. Brits, French and Germans.. Everyone pretty conventional.

So I kind of stuck out like a sore thumb somewhat, but nonetheless was getting on well with everyone, and making myself useful as the local gardner, translator, computer bod and story teller.

But feeling company for someone more likeminded.. Someone hippyish and into fruit.

So I put out to the universe that I wanted to meet another barefoot fruitarian, living locally..

By the way, this is all recorded as it unfolded in my journal.

About a week or so later, Helena, my beautiful sister, reported that while she was at the Campello market (my regular Wednesday morning haunt), she spotted this long haired guy, hippy looking, and no shoes, carrying big bags of fruit.

At first I thought she was teasing me, but kept my eyes opened for him everytime I went there from then on.

...

Some months later, I was busy filling my trolley with fruit, when suddenly a voice behind me spoke in German, saying "noch ein barfuessler" (another barefooter?!), and after a short exchange of words, we discovered that we were each fruitarian.. Only Rudolf didn't believe it to begin with, and shy'ed away from having anything to do with me.

Later, once we had become friends, I discovered that he too, had put out to the universe to meet another barefoot fruitarian, and thus we were pulled into each others lives.