Sometimes the most profound moments happen when you’re just trying to catch a bus.

I was completely lost in Quito, Ecuador, lugging my backpack through unfamiliar streets, desperately searching for the right bus to the terminal. After a sleepless night at Toronto’s YYZ airport—thanks eh, Air Canada—and one very reluctant hotel stay, all I wanted was to escape the big city chaos and get to the parts of Ecuador I’d actually come to see.

This is part of the monthly Feelgood Friday series on my YouTube channel, Street Smart Travel—positive, inspiring stories from life on the road that remind us there’s still plenty of good in this world. Because honestly? We need more of these stories right now.

Big City Armour

I’m SUPER not a fan of big cities. Never have been. I’ve been to New York, Yangon, Managua—places where everyone’s basically wearing invisible armour. Nobody makes eye contact, everyone’s rushing around like they’re late for the most important meeting of their lives, faces buried in phones. You learn pretty quickly not to expect much from strangers in places like that.

I’ve lived in Toronto for over fifty years, and I can count on one hand the times a stranger went out of their way to genuinely help me. It’s not that people are bad—they’re just… protected. Guarded. And honestly, I get it.

But what happened in Quito? That shattered every assumption I had about big city interactions.

When Everything Changed

There I was, walking down this street in Quito, with my carry-on and a backpack, completely lost, trying to figure out which bus I needed to catch. Classic tourist move, right? I spotted this well-dressed guy—probably in his forties, looked like he knew what he was doing—waiting at a bus stop.

I walked up and asked in Spanish: “Disculpe, Señor, ¿podría decirme dónde tomar el autobús para la terminal de Carcelén?” “Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where I can get the bus to Carcelén terminal?”

Here’s where it gets incredible.

This guy—this complete stranger—doesn’t just point down the street. He doesn’t pull out his phone to show me a map. He stands up with this huge smile and says, “¡Vamos juntos!” Let’s go together!

What?

I’ve lived in Toronto for fifty years. FIFTY YEARS. I cannot think of a single time—not once—when a stranger offered to physically walk me somewhere. When’s the last time that happened to you in the West?

It Gets Even Better

So we start walking together. A block and a half, just chatting like we’re old friends. This guy’s matching my pace, asking about my trip, totally relaxed about the whole thing. When we get to the right bus stop, he points down the street: “Ahi esta su bus” “There’s your bus.”

Already, right? I’m thinking, “Okay, this is incredible. This is more kindness than I’ve gotten in most major cities combined.”

But wait—there’s more.

The bus pulls up, I get on, and instead of just waving goodbye, this guy steps forward and starts talking to the driver in rapid-fire Spanish. I’m catching bits and pieces, but basically he’s explaining where I need to go. He’s telling the driver, “Hey, this guy needs to get to Carcelén, and I know the bus doesn’t actually go into the terminal—can you let him know when to get off?”

The Twenty-Five Minute Revelation

Sitting on that bus for the twenty-five minute ride, stuck in Quito’s crazy midday traffic, I couldn’t stop replaying what had just happened. This man could have easily pointed and said, “Bus stop’s over there, good luck.” Instead, he invested his time, energy, and genuine care in helping someone who could never repay him.

But here’s what really got me—it wasn’t the act itself. It was how effortless it was for him. No internal debate, no hesitation. It was automatic: “Of course I’m going to help this person. Of course I’m going to go out of my way for another human being.”

This wasn’t some one-off miracle. I’ve been in Ecuador for almost three years, and I see this everywhere. From the Andes to the Amazon, from tiny coastal towns to villages you can’t find on a map, even in the big cities—this is just how people are here.

These aren’t grand gestures that make the evening news. These are quiet acts of decency that happen every single day, by people who think helping others is just… what you do. It’s part of who they are.

Why This Matters Right Now

We’re living in strange times. Everyone’s suspicious of everyone, we’re supposed to be afraid of “stranger danger,” and city life means building walls around yourself for protection.

But this experience? It reminded me of something huge: genuine human goodness isn’t a rare occurrence. It’s everywhere. It’s all around us, just waiting for us to notice it and pass it on.

That morning in Quito, this stranger didn’t just help me catch a bus. He reminded me why I fell in love with travel in the first place—not for the Instagram photos or passport stamps, but for these moments of pure human connection that restore your faith in people.

His kindness cost him maybe ten minutes of his day. The impact on me? That will last forever.

The Challenge I’m Living With

Every time I see someone looking lost or confused—you know that universal “I have no idea where I am” expression—I think about that gentleman at the bus stop. I think about how easy it was for him to choose compassion over just walking away.

And I try to be that person for someone else.

Because somewhere out there, right now, another traveler is standing at their own metaphorical bus stop. Maybe they’re lost, maybe they’re scared, maybe they just need someone to care enough to not just point the way, but actually walk with them toward where they need to go.

The world keeps telling us to be afraid of strangers, to keep our heads down, to mind our own business. But what if we did the opposite? What if we looked up, made eye contact, and asked, “How can I help?”

The next time someone asks you for directions or help, think about that Ram Dass quote. Ask yourself: What can I do to help walk this person home? How can I go beyond what they’re asking to make them feel more at ease, more welcomed, more human?

Your Stories Matter Too

This kind of kindness isn’t unique to Ecuador, or even to travel. It’s happening in your neighborhood, your city, maybe even to you. The difference is, we don’t share these stories enough. We’re so focused on everything that’s wrong with the world that we forget to celebrate what’s right with it.

Have you experienced unexpected kindness from a stranger? Has someone gone way beyond what you asked for, just because they could? I’d love to hear about it.

Get Out There and See for Yourself

Look, I get it. The idea of approaching strangers, especially in unfamiliar places, can be scary. We’ve been conditioned to see danger everywhere. But in my 25+ years of travel—from the streets of Yangon to the mountains of Peru to the markets of Mexico—I can tell you that genuine kindness far outweighs the risks.

That doesn’t mean being reckless. Trust your instincts, stay aware of your surroundings, and use common sense. But don’t let fear rob you of the incredible human connections that make travel—and life—truly meaningful.

The world is full of people like that gentleman in Quito. People who see helping others as the most natural thing in the world. You just have to be open to finding them.

Happy trails, see you out on the road.