Why I will skip Couchsurfing.com forever

Couchsurfing is a website set up similar to Booking.com and other short term booking services. You can sign up, verify yourself with email and ID, fill out a profile and proceed to search for couches to crash on while you travel. You can view host profiles and reviews before sending a request with the dates you’d like to stay with them. You can find private rooms, shared accommodations and of course, actual living room couches for no monetary cost. This concept seemed insanely generous to me. Who would want to allow absolute strangers into their homes for free? It turns out, many people do!

I sent requests and was accepted to stay at a few different homes on a trip to Brussels, Antwerp and Amsterdam. Most of my stays were solo, although two of my friends also joined me for a few nights. I stayed with hosts from 1-10 days.

Some of my couch surfing experiences were nothing special. Some were good, even. I stayed with a lovely host in Antwerp who later allowed my friend to join me, even though it meant one of us was in the spare room while the other took the couch. We were able to shower, do laundry, cook and relax at the host’s house. That experience was great. The host chatted with us, gave us directions and activity recommendations and played piano for us on the last evening. He left us both nice reviews and invited us to reach out if we were ever in the area again. Okay, not bad. We had a safe place to stay and didn’t spend a thing on accommodations. Couchsurfing must be an awesome resource, I thought.

 

This notion was completely broken at my next couch surfing stay, which was on the outskirts of Amsterdam. I was in town for a week, and was busy throughout the day with an intensive dance workshop. I would leave early in the morning, take transit to the workshop, and explore the city afterwards, only returning after dinner to shower and sleep. When I first arrived at my host’s house, I was let in and shown my room. The host introduced himself but said he was busy working on his iPad. He didn’t have a spare key for me, so I told him a rough estimate of the time I would be back home. As the week went on, I hardly ever saw the host. He seemed to be working from home or away very often. This was no problem for me, so long as I could be let in at the end of the day. One Thursday, I came home around 8pm after walking from the workshop across town. I had meandered around the city and walked though a park with sandy gravel. My shoes were filled with sand when I arrived. I tried to knock off the sand, but it was wet and stuck to my shoes. The host let me in after I knocked on the door a few times, and then returned to his room. I needed to clean up the mess made by my shoes, but didn’t feel welcome to interrupt him again. I waited until he emerged hours later to ask for a vacuum. He seemed a bit surprised about the mess I had made, and answered shortly that it was in the closet. I cleaned up the mess, showered and went to bed.

Friday was my last night in Amsterdam, and I had an early flight back to Canada on Saturday morning. I left as usual to the workshop, and performed a short solo piece I had made in the evening. I returned to the house in early evening so I could pack my bags and be ready to leave the next day. When I arrived, the lights were out and the door was locked. I knocked a few times, tried to doorknob, and realized the host wasn’t at home. I texted him to ask when he’d be back. He didn’t reply right away, and I was left waiting on the doorstep as neighbours entered their own units. I was sweaty from dancing, hungry and annoyed. Finally the host replied after I tried calling and texting him a few times. He wrote “I’m out of town.” My heart sank. Out of town? Where? When will you be back? I need to grab my stuff and leave, I was thinking. He replied as if it was no big deal that I was locked out at night in a city where I didn’t know anyone, at 18 years old. “Go make friends at the bar down the street”. I was furious. I called my mom back in Canada and explained the situation. What could she do, though? She comforted me at least.

With no other option, I headed to the bar mentioned by the host, but I was in no mood to party. I found a seat and ordered water. I tried to read a novel that was in my backpack, but could hardly concentrate. I continued to text the host. but he stopped answering. By 12am, I left the bar and walked back to the house, hoping he might be home soon, although he still hadn’t answered my texts asking when he’d be back.

 

At the house, the lights were still off and the door was still locked. I didn’t care. I started knocking on the door and yelling to open up. I didn’t think he was going to be home, but he was. The host finally stumbled to the door wearing pyjamas and looking like he had just woke from a deep sleep. He let me inside without any words. I didn’t say anything either. What could I say? I didn’t know if he had been home the whole time, pretending to be away, or if he was actually away but decided not to tell me that he had returned. Either way, it was very upsetting for me. I walked to my room, shut the door and started packing my bags. I set my alarm extra early so I could get out of his house for good.

On the Counchsurfing website, I reviewed the host honestly, writing exactly what I have said here but in 500 words. Once the host and guest review each other, the reviews go live on the website and can be seen. I was expecting him to leave me a similar review, as it seemed like he had a personal vendetta against me. But what did he write? “Nothing much to say.” I was confused, but didn’t really care. I hope the review of my experience dissuaded other guests from staying with the host.

This couch surfing experience was bad, but it could have been much worse. I have heard stories of hosts coming on to their guests and having suspicious motives or unspoken expectations. I was a young woman staying with older men who were strangers to me. When I think about this fact, I feel sad for what could have happened when I put myself in those unknown situations. Yes, I saved some money while travelling, but I will never use the Couchsurfing website again. Nothing is worth your safety, comfort and wellbeing. If you choose to couch surf, do so at your own risk, and try to mitigate the potential for risk by doing the following:

1. Make sure hosts are verified through ID. If anything weird happens, Couchsurfing will have their information on record.
2. Book with hosts with many positive reviews, especially from people travelling in the way you are (solo, female, etc)
3. Consider a host of the same gender as you, if that would make you feel more comfortable
4. Communicate with the hosts clearly what their expectations are for your stay. Do they want you to be quiet as a mouse? Do they want to hang out and make dinners together? Only go forward if your time and energy expectations align.
5. Share your itinerary and addresses with someone you trust, such as a family member or friend. Include the names and phone numbers of the hosts.
6. Go with your gut. If anything seems sketchy, don’t do it. If you’re strapped for cash, look for other low budget options such as hostels or staying with someone you or a friend personally know. Reach out to your social circle if you need to borrow some money for a night’s stay somewhere.

Have you used Couchsurfing or a similar website? If so, what were your experiences like? Will you continue to use such a service? My advice: stick to Airbnb or Booking.com.

Note: Couchsurfing was a free to use website when I used it. As of this article the site is now charging a fee to access it’s services.