Maybe Tennessee Williams’s Streetcar heroine was on the right track when she said, “I’ve always been indebted to the kindness of strangers.”

Indebtedness is not quite the right descriptor for those brief encounters with strangers a traveler seems to invite, but it is a special type of gratitude.

So often, a tourist, as a foreigner to a new place, comes across unexpected challenges and help seems to be provided, as if magically, from unforeseen sources; from people with no prior relationship.

Yes, there are nice people who man tourist information kiosks near the train station or town’s main square. They’ll provide directions or recommendations on restaurants or neighborhoods to visit. They can tell you how to operate the machines that dispense fare cards for the subway…But that’s their job.

Traveling seems to create extra opportunities to interact with people outside of your established circle and get help from people where it’s not a requirement of their job. As a traveler, you need extra help. When you’re far from home, it’s understandable that most of the people you come in contact with are strangers.

These strangers have no vested interest in giving you attention or in satisfying your needs. Maybe you’re more vulnerable than usual. These two circumstances combine to create something special.

It’s a very basic and pure kind of human interaction. Everyone knows what it’s like to need help.

People also like to give help – when they can; when the action that seems to be called for is something they can do.

My friend Nancy and I just came back from Portugal. We had done research, using guidebooks and online resources for weeks and months leading up to the trip (God bless Rick Steves and Trip Advisor).

We also tried to get the skinny from friends who had their passports stamped there and we did a lot of things by feel. We took on traveling with what we thought to be a good balance between a healthy spirit of adventure and sound judgment.

I knew I wanted to stay in the Alfama district of Lisbon because it was old and had a lot of character. Full of narrow, winding streets, it seemed like a great place to wander and just see LIFE HAPPENING. This always appealed to me.

Lilliana and Bruno, our Air BnB hosts, gave us directions on how to get to their apartment from the Santa Apolonia Metro stop. We had a little challenge finding their street (or should I say vertical alley?) but we figured things out. Their place was close to the Fado Museum.

After picking up the apartment keys from a café two flights up, we learned that our building was an additional couple flights up and that the apartment itself was two more stairways up from the building’s entranceway. The casters at the bottom of our suitcases, so good for traveling through an airport, was no help here.

Pausing to rest after only a few stairs, we were spotted by two couples, also tourists. They saw us struggling, and the two men picked up our suitcases and, following instructions, deposited them at our doorway.

No extra words were exchanged. I think that they were happy that they were able to help (I suspect they were also happy that their good deed didn’t involve playing Sherpa any longer). They appeared just when we needed help — and disappeared just as quickly.

Later that afternoon, we trekked up through more windy streets towards Sao Jorge’s Castle. Even without the burden of rolling suitcases and loaded backpacks, the route was not easy.   Our map didn’t show the names of all the streets and the incline was steep for us being used to the flatlands of Illinois.

Unsolicited, a local came up to us and, in perfect English, told us to take the 737 mini-bus up to the castle and back to the Alfama. Free with the Lisbon Card we had already purchased.

Two nights later, a tavern/restaurant manager kept his kitchen open a little later than usual when we arrived hungry after their normal dinner hour. Nancy and I shared a wonderful braised pork dish and charcuterie and received a colorful lecture from the waiter on local craft beers and Portuguese history.

On the recommendation of a friend who gave me her phone number, we contacted an Irish nun who’s been part of a devotional order in Fatima for years. We hoped to get an informal orientation to the area and the hundred-year old miracle of the three shepherd children. While she couldn’t take much time to talk to us herself, she arranged for someone to be our driver and guide for the day.

We left with an insider’s account of what happened. He actually knew relatives of Francisco and Jacinta, two of the three children involved, and sent us home with water bottles filled with holy water (from the pump he claimed to be connected to the original source rather than one of the newer pumps which he explained were installed to handle crowds of visiting pilgrims).

In Porto, tour operators from our day spent enjoying the Douro Valley scenery and wine tastings bent over backwards to return a camera left on their van before we had to leave town. A young couple we stopped to ask directions from actually walked us to the restaurant where we wanted to dine.

All along the way, we found people that were very kind to us.

It’s a great thing to remember (and easy to forget). People are basically kind.

People want to offer you their best. It’s a way to celebrate our shared humanity.

Being open to receiving help is no small thing.