Travelling in France, i was staying with a friend of my sister’s, a French winemaker named Giles. I asked him to take me to dinner, my treat, and to eat where he would eat. We went to three different restaurants that I would have never found on my own, he ordered, and I ate whatever was put in front of me.
At the end of the evening Giles said “You don’t eat like an American.” I wear that as a badge of honor.
Once, after I had a novel rejected, I saw the editor at a convention. She said to me, “You’re a good writer.”
Cheered me up and I think about it often.
Late 80’s, in Tibet borderlands with China. It was me (average white guy) and girlfriend (average blonde Australian of Irish heritage) at the time. The place was pretty remote but had seen the odd Caucasian foreigner. A group of the local Tibetans spoke enough Mandarin that we could communicate at a reasonably fluent level. Hung out there for a couple of days mainly with these folks.
On the last day, one elderly Tibetan guy said something to the effect: “I used to think Caucasians were ugly, but now that I’ve been around you two, the more I see you the better you both look.” How’s that for a backhanded compliment? 
Travel is so eye opening for everyone.
In my 9th grade geography class the teacher gave us an assignment to compose an ad to encourage people to visit the country we were researching. When he was preparing to read mine to the class he said, “this boy doesn’t waste words.” Since then I’ve taken pride in being concise.
In high school, my English teacher told me that I wrote exactly like Tom Wolfe. Or like Thomas Wolfe; I remember the remark, but not which way she put it. But I figure they’re both acclaimed, and so I still figure it was a compliment — even if I still don’t know which compliment it was.