We had no idea what he would look like. While we were safely sitting in the car, the rain poured on the gravel of the small parking place. Every now and then, a car would stop and an Englishman, or lady, would scurry for cover in the inviting dry and warm local inn.
We started theorizing.
"He organizes a folk festival, right? So surely he has a beard!"
"And long hair? No, he doesn't strike me as the hippie type."
It was easy enough for him. All he had to do was look for the one Dutch car with four tourists in it.
