Couchsurfing, a renowned website among travelers, had always piqued my curiosity. In 2024, I finally decided to take the plunge and experience it firsthand. It felt unfair to pass judgment on something without having my firsthand couchsurfing experience.
For those unfamiliar, Couchsurfing connects travelers with hosts worldwide who open their homes for guests to stay. Typically for free, though guests often contribute financially or by helping out. Some hosts offer couches, while others provide guest rooms.
Many people have not had an issue using this website.
Disclaimer: This is just my experience. I am not condemning or discouraging anyone from using the site.
My First Couchsurfing Experience
My journey with Couchsurfing began with a search for accommodation on their site. Despite initial reservations about safety in strangers’ homes, I was determined to trust the process and learn from the experience. I sent out several requests to hosts with positive reviews. To my delight, two hosts responded and agreed to host me under flexible conditions. I was excited and grateful, anticipating a relaxing two-week stay.
The first family I arranged to stay with was in Benin. The account was registered under a female name. I saw it as an opportunity to learn more about Beninese culture firsthand. For almost a month leading up to my arrival, I received prompt responses to my inquiries. I was eager to unpack and settle in.
Before boarding the shared car from Lome to Cotonou, I reached out to call my host.
To my surprise, a man answered, explaining he was the husband of the woman whose profile I had been corresponding with. Assuming she was occupied with their children, I shared my arrival plans and sent him a photo, intending to contact him upon arrival.
What happened when I got to Cotonou
Upon reaching Cotonou and stepping into their home, I was immediately hit by a strong odor of dirt and noticed an older, unclean dog lying near the door on the veranda. As someone particularly conscious of cleanliness, it was momentarily difficult to breathe. Despite this, I was offered sachets of water to quench my thirst. Eager to meet my host’s wife, I inquired about her whereabouts.
To my surprise and discomfort, he pointed to a large portrait on the wall and became visibly saddened. Confused, I asked again, prompting him to show me pictures of his wife, who had passed away in January 2024, just a few months prior.
Instantly, I felt goosebumps crawl over my skin, realizing I couldn’t stay in such an emotionally charged environment.
What was my response
I confronted him about not disclosing this information earlier, but he hesitated to provide a clear explanation, which felt like a deliberate deception despite the circumstances. In that moment of shock and discomfort, I urged him to update his profile to reflect his current situation and asked for help connecting to the internet using his phone. After purchasing data, I swiftly booked an Airbnb.
He seemed taken aback by my decision to leave and even joked about whether I was afraid of his late wife’s ghost. I simply expressed my preference for honesty and discomfort in residing with a family where the dynamics had dramatically changed.
Thankfully, he was understanding and assisted me in arranging transportation to my Airbnb, where a tricycle took me directly to its doorstep.
Overall, while my first Couchsurfing experience didn’t go as expected, it taught me valuable lessons about transparency and communication in such arrangements, reaffirming the importance of clear expectations and mutual understanding between hosts and guests.
My Second Couchsurfing Experience
The second Couchsurfer who accepted my request was a Senegalese expat living in Cotonou. I was thrilled by her generous offer. She communicated in clear English, so it was easy to understand each other. I reached out to her once I was certain I would be going to her place, but she informed me that she wasn’t available at the time. She promised to let me know when she would be free.
I waited for several days without hearing from her. Then, two days before I planned to end my trip, she contacted me, sounding surprised that I hadn’t called, despite her being the one who said she’d let me know when she’d be available. I felt deeply disappointed and decided not to go to her place after all.
Here’s the link to their website. For privacy sake, I didn’t mention the real hosts. If you want to read about other things to do in Cotonou, read here.
