@yaxomoxay might like this vignette.
Earlier this afternoon, while waiting at a bus stop for the bus from the city, it was just beginning to spit rain, thus, I was congratulating myself on timing my departure well - I had paid a fleeting visit to the farmers' market, (Gorgonzola, Roquefort and wild garlic pesto were purchased), had a coffee in a favourite coffee shop and replenished supplies of coffee, picked up my bread - that has been put aside for me - at the French bakery, dashed into the library to collect books that awaited me (and return some I had finished and renew those I had yet to finish) - a charming middle aged gentleman struck up a conversation with me.
Now, as I am quite clearly to be found in a category best (and most eloquently) described as une femme d'un certain âge, thus, these days, it is not a usual experience for me for a complete (and perfectly charming and engaging) gentleman stranger to strike up a conversation out of the proverbial blue while awaiting the arrival of a bus as the rain I had forecast threatened to begin to fall.
It transpired he was (is) Italian, and - quite rapidly - for, we continued our conversation on the bus - we had passed from the weather ("be optimistic" he beamed at me when I (correctly) predicted that rain would commence very shortly), through politics ("corrupt"), a little Italian history, onto discussing recipes (carbonara was explored in delightful detail, and others were also touched upon - anything to do with gorgonzola or aubergines), and the best places locally to buy eggs and guanciale (the farmers' market, for the most part).
I have to say that it was not just a pleasant (and wholly unexpected) encounter, but a perfectly charming one too.