One of those random things that happen when traveling: An unpredictable intersection of simpatico people.

In this case, nine Americans meeting at a mojito bar early in the evening in the Old City of a small Spanish seaside town in the autonomous region of Valencia.

When the whole of the city of Altea may not, at that moment, have included two dozen Americans. (We had not identified one, in four days.)

When the “Yank total” hit six, the proprietor, since 2009, of the popular AlteArte bar (photo courtesy AlteArte), declared: “This may be more Americans than have ever been in here!”

And that was before three more Yanks came through.

Just as the AlteArte opened for business, three of us joined the proprietor, the cheerful and energetic Sara, a native of Laguna Beach, formerly of New York and Paris, who writes a blog about her experiences in the city of Altea, for a chat about the city where she lives.

We had questions about the upsides and downsides of living there, and she made clear it is a town with mostly upsides. A “jewel” she called it.

It was all very helpful and we are grateful for her insights and experience. And then Sara made a mojito for each of us. I had the “clasico” but Sara has about 50 varieties on the basic mixed drink. And most of them cost only five euros — about $6

We were just tucking in to our mojitos when a tall woman of perhaps 40 entered, with an older woman, and Sara knew the tall woman, who hails from Oregon and teaches art in a high school.

She had done a painting of the entrance to the AlteArte, a work which pleased Sara quite a bit, and the woman gave her suggestions about how best to frame, if she were interested.

Then came the “where are you from” questions and “what brings you to Altea” that are typical here and which Americans the world ’round usually have no trouble answering (as opposed to citizens of more “reserved” countries).

The woman introduced her companion, her mother, who was visiting, and we suggested they should sit and have some mojitos, but they had to be on their way — but not before the tall woman told Sara what a wonderful job she had her Spanish husband have done with the place — which has space for local artists to show their work. (The “arte” part of the AlteArte name.)

Well, weren’t they nice? And on their way out the door, two young people were having a look at the place and the Oregon duo apparently asked the young people if one of them would take their picture. And they did.

And then those two sort of peeked into the bar, and edged inside, and they not only looked like Yanks (really, you can tell, after a time) they were … and greetings were exchanged, and they were newlyweds, from San Diego, who were in Altea for a few days because one of their wedding gifts had been a place to stay in the Old Town from an American woman who owns an apartment here.

We talked these two, neither of them over 30, into ordering mojitos, and they told us about their wedding and their careers, and their astonishingly ambitious one-week, three-city tour (London, up next).

He is an accountant, who doesn’t derive much pleasure from his job, and she is a chiropractor who specializes in new mothers and newborns and very much likes what she does.

We talked about football and traveling and places like Altea, and our thoughts about the place and, no surprise, the original trio ordered another round of mojitos …

And, eventually, another man came in, perhaps 40 and a regular, apparently, who Sara greeted by name and exclaimed: “This is crazy! Another American!”

He sat down and ordered a beer, and soon was speaking with the young accountant from San Diego …

And it was pleasant, and interesting to hear other people’s stories about how they came to be in the town.

And it struck me that perhaps part of the reward of running a bar is creating a space where people can come and be social and uninhibited and marvel at what a small (yet large and complicated) place is the world.

So much of what happens to us is unplanned, and this certainly includes important points in life.

Sara, for instance, was in the town of Torrevieja, at the southern end of the Costa Blanca, in 2009, when the economy there tanked. She and her husband did some looking around further up the coast, and got as far as Benidorm, which is practically next door to Altea, and they decided their search had been fruitless.

Then she decided, she told us, that she and her husband ought to try one more town to the north. Just a speculative thought. No real knowledge of the place, or what might be possible there.

And then they found Altea, of which they previously had known nothing, and saw an opportunity to take over a bar that was for sale, and six years later the two of them are success stories, and Sara may be the most prominent American in the town.

You never know.