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“Chay? Chay?” Who would have thought that the only Azerbaijani word I could have possibly known would pave a way to one of my most unforgettable travel and life experiences. I was on my third day of traveling around Azerbaijan when I met and made friends with a guy who was also backpacking solo. We were the only foreigners on a bus full of locals and felt surprised and ecstatic to find out we were heading to the same mountain village. Although staying at different homestays, we managed to make plans for the next day before going on our separate ways and agreed to do a hike up to a nearby mountain. So we met early for the long day ahead, just barely after breakfast. Looking at our navigation app, we randomly picked our destination, discussed briefly our supposed route and immediately started walking. A few hours and a lot of kilometers later, we finally reached the summit. We were both experienced hikers but for some reason, we came unprepared for the hike that day, only bringing a liter of water and a banana. After some steep ascents and descents all the while walking under the scorching sun, we found ourselves desperately looking for water and food in what seemed like an abandoned village as we saw no one except for some cows, with their dung spread all over the streets making the place too filthy and stinky and full of flies. And then as good a Samaritan as he was, we came across an old man offering us to swing by his house to have a tea. “Chay? Chay?” he asked. Exhausted, parched and hungry, we nodded without a bit of hesitation, without even thinking of the risk that we were taking, without ever doubting this total stranger‘s real intention. The second we entered his yard, he hurriedly looked for his wife and we could hear him excitingly telling her about their unexpected visitors. What was supposed to be just a tea ended up in us being served with so much food that they probably had prepared for their Iftar (a Muslim’s meal eaten at sunset to break their fast) that day. First we had bread, pastries, salad and some sweets. Then came Dolma, a traditional Azerbaijani dish of grape leaves stuffed with meat plus another dish of stewed mutton. Either we were too hungry or the food was just really delicious that everything we ate tasted so good. Regardless, we definitely got more than what we needed at that moment. We had a feast! The old couple were living alone with their niece, who was also thrilled to have us so much so that she was telling her friends and their neighbors about us. We knew because some of them came to their house just to see us and were even taking selfies with us. While we were so grateful for the kindness they’d shown us, we could also see in their faces the happiness of hosting us. We kept on thanking them for welcoming us to their house and feeding us like a family. They kept on telling us it was a pleasure for them to do so. You could think of it as them just doing their duties during Ramadan, where every Muslim is expected to be kind and generous, but I thought of it as them being just genuinely kind-hearted. As we readied ourselves to head back, they were so concerned that we might get lost in the dark on the way and even offered us a room for a night’s stay, to which we gladly declined as we needed to leave early for another town the next day. Yes, they don’t speak English (we were mostly conversing through a translator app and some hand gestures) yet their kindness and hospitality broke whatever language barrier we had between us. My experience with them did not only leave an indelible memory in my life but also restored my faith in humanity and made me realize that humans, after all, are naturally kind. The act they showed us reminds me everyday to not only be kind to everyone but also try to be kinder than necessary.