Baños, and I don't mean bathroom

When I emailed my mom and told her I was taking a 7 hour bus ride to Baños, she replied something like, "whoa, that's a long time to go without a bathroom. Make sure you go before you leave!" 
I did a face-palm plant and wrote back, "No, Baños is the name of the town! Lol ". 
Baños does mean bathroom in Spanish. I haven't the foggiest idea why someone would name a town such a thing. 
Baños is located in central Ecuador. It's a cute backpacker's hub that creates a comfortable place to lay your head for a few days.

 I'm not going to tell you about the famous taffy that's made here, and how you can see locals stretching the taffy on wooden pegs on the door frame of their shops. 

I'm also not going to talk about the local hot springs here that are nice to soak your bones in. 
But I AM going to tell you about a cute-as-a-button little old lady we encountered!
Sometimes when Dinh and I would see homeless elderly people in Central America, looking particularity poor and skinny, we would buy them a much needed hot meal.  
They seemed thankful, although some of them had a hard time expressing themselves due to psychological disorders. We felt better knowing that they would have at least one hot meal that day. 
We were wandering around the center of Baños when we spotted The Itty Bitty Lady. As she brushed passed me, I looked down and saw her for the first time. 

I covered my mouth, muffling my squeals. She was so tiny, I fought the urge to run up to her and pick her up! 
Please tell me you've felt this before. 
I was at least twice as tall as her. She was hobbit-like small. 
We followed her, acting like undercover cops. Well, Dinh was less conspicuous than I was. 
I snapped some photos of her, being careful not to blow our cover. But, she didn't seem to know we even existed. 

After I did a little shopping, and Dinh did a little patient waiting, we returned to the street. The little lady caught our eyes again. Sitting on the sidewalk, her legs were curled up underneath her body with her old raggedy wool blanket covering her tiny body, exposing only her face. Her cane was propped next to her and, strangely, she had a aluminum pot with her. She kept herself entertained by watching tourists pass her by. Dread locked Israeli's with baggy pants sashayed past her, not giving her a second glance. How could you miss one of the cutest ladies in town?!! Maybe she was too small to be seen?
Suddenly Dinh suggested, "c'mon, we have to go get her a hot meal." 
"Oh yea, why didn't I think of that?", I thought. 
We made our way to the local market about a block away. There was lots of funky foods here. You could buy guinea pig, as well as all kinds of exotic fruits, some we had never even seen before. 
We had eaten here a few times while staying in Baños, and each time we were shoulder to shoulder with locals. This was the perfect spot to chow down.  

We chose a chicken soup with hearty chucks of chicken and loads of vegetables for The Itty Bitty Lady. Asking the cook for a spoon, we set off with our soup in a styrofoam bowl. It was an exceptionally large bowl. 
"There's no way she can eat all of that, it's made for a family of 6!", I joked. 
"Oh well, let her deal with that", was Dinh's response.
I prayed she was still in the spot we saw her last. 
Sure enough, she was there, sitting in the same position. 
Only her head moved as she people watched. 
"Here, you go give it to her", Dinh instructed as he placed the bowl in my hands. 
A woman is less threatening. 
I crossed the street, not knowing how she would react to our generosity. 
While crossing the street, I rehearsed what I would say to her in Spanish. 
As I approached the teeny grandma, I squatted low, getting down to her level.
Her wise old eyes focused on me. There were large black moles speckled around her eyes. 

On my haunches, I handed her the plastic bag containing the soup and spoon. 
"Good morning lady. Here, we bought this soup for you", I told her in Spanish.
She took the soup and placed it on the sidewalk in front of her. She started speaking a dialect I didn't understand. It was definitely not Spanish. She was indigenous and probably speaking a language very few people speak. I smiled warmly at her as she rambled on. She didn't show much emotion in her facial expressions. The tone of her voice suggested she was talking about everyday stuff, but I had no way of knowing. 
I smiled and nodded some more, then waved goodbye and slowly stood up to walk across the street towards Dinh. We pretended to shop a couple doors down so we could do a little more spying on her. She couldn't see us. I practically held my breath as I watched her peel off the lid to the styrofoam bowl and inspect the contents. Would she eat it?......

It must have been to her liking, because she dug out her own personal spoon and started gobbling it down. We laughed at the size of her wooden spoon, almost too big to fit in her little mouth. 
"Haha, look, she has her own spoon", Dinh chuckled. 
We watched her for a while and then decided to let her enjoy her meal in peace. We walked away with warmed hearts, knowing she would have a full stomach that day. We had done our good deed. 
It is so easy for a first world person to help third world people. 
Forget the touristy attractions, it's the interactions with the locals that really make the most precious traveling memories. 
This is my fondest memory of Baños.