I dropped my wallet in Calcutta. It was returned to me.
I got lost wandering around in Istanbul. Strangers helped me get back to my hotel.
I spent Christmas in 2005 in Patna, Bihar, India, a city known for its violence and poverty. I was welcomed at Midnight Mass, where the congregation sang familiar hymns in the unfamiliar Hindi, and shook hands in peace with those around me.
I was afraid I had an infection in my foot when I lived in Kabul. My boss, an Afghan doctor, and his father and his cousin drove me, in the middle of the night, down a dangerous road, to get to the hospital for assessment.
I had a panic attack while scuba diving in a strong current in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. A fellow diver, an Indian tourist, stayed with me, helped me resurface and gather the gumption to dive again.
I was accidentally in the wrong region at the wrong time in Assam. The people staying at the ashram with me put me in a jeep and drove me to the capital in the middle of the night. Local unrest hit just as we arrived.
I needed to find an apartment for 6 months when I lived in Vienna. I don't speak German and was having a hard time searching. My Moldovan colleague spent hours of her free time helping me, graciously. Read More