They are out there if you know where to look. The wild strawberry is a part of some of my finest childhood memories. Hayfields of summer with my mom or my grandma, searching through the leaves for little berries no bigger than a child's fingertip. My old man transplanted some wild strawberries to the garden where they grew to twice their normal size.
My blueberry connection was at his usual park bench today and had a few containers of wild strawberries for sale. Seven euros for half a liter. Expensive, I know, but you have to have priorities. Good, fresh food is at the top of my list.