20 years of Couchsurfing: part two
In part one of the Couchsurfing retrospective, we met Jason, my first host, the gregarious Dimitar from Bulgaria, and explored the nuances between appropriate and inappropriate sex. In part two we travel to Azerbaijan, return to Iraq, and visit Kuwait, Australia and Burundi. Here is 20 years of Couchsurfing, pt. 2.
The Host I Never Met
Trust is one of the key ingredients to the success of Couchsurfing. As a guest, it is necessary to trust that your host is not a serial killer, and as a host, that guests will respect your home. Before arriving in Kuwait, Salim offered to host me despite being away on business in Saudi Arabia. As with Jabor, who would host me in Baghdad, Salim left a key hidden near his front door, with instructions on how to reach his home in Al Jahra.
Anyone who has been to Kuwait will attest that it’s not the most exciting destination – the immigration staff are some of the rudest I have met, and the visa process is unnecessarily overcomplicated, yet Salim was a shining light of hospitality. We stayed in touch via WhatsApp and he checked in to ensure my stay was comfortable. As I travelled onwards to Iraq, I would discover that Arabic hospitality is legendary, and Couchsurfing is the ideal way to travel in the Middle East.
A traditional dance, outside a mosque near Al Jahra, Kuwait
The Overstayer
The culture of Couchsurfing, while adaptable to different settings around the world, is underpinned by some core principles. Respecting the limits of your hosts hospitality is one of them. Generally, 2 – 4 nights is an acceptable time to stay, and anything longer should be discussed and agreed upon. There is no assumption of an open-ended stay.
When Laura arrived in Australia from Germany to work and study, I offered her a place to stay for a few nights. At the time, I was living with my parents, and they were happy to provide her with a bed and meals. After five days, Laura was showing no indication of moving on. If anything, she was settling in. It prompted a conversation which quickly turned awkward, when Laura stated she had nowhere else to go, and little money. I was baffled. Who flies halfway around the world, to settle in a new country, and does not have a long-term, or even short-term plan for accommodation?
Laura left our house rattled and upset. She found backpacker accommodation that night and sent a message to my mother, apologising if she did anything wrong, and disclosing how sad she was at leaving. Her manipulation worked, and my mother invited her back. What’s worse is that she accepted. Laura ended up staying for three months. Luckily, she found a job and was able to pay rent, but it made for a tense household at times.
Holiday in Baghdad
On my travels through Iraq in 2025, I stayed in hotels for only three nights. The rest of the time I was couchsurfing and met many welcoming and hospitable people throughout the country. In Baghdad, I met Jaafar, a contact through a mutual friend. Jaafar was unable to host me, however showed me an amazing time in Baghdad, taking me out several nights to restaurants and markets, to visit the ruins of Ctesiphon, and he even drove me to the airport! Jaafar is, like many Iraqis, among the most generous people I have met, and a wonderful ambassador for not only Couchsurfing, but the country of Iraq too.
Jaafar cooking fish on our trip to Ctesiphon
Inappropriate Sex #2
I am travelling with my friend Laura from Azerbaijan to Armenia, via Georgia. Laura is unfamiliar with Couchsurfing, though is open to trying it if we can find a host. On our last night in the capital, Baku, Javid offers his place for the night. He prefaces his offer with the fact he won’t be around, but his friend Arif can let us inside the apartment and will stay there overnight. We accept the offer and meet Arif at the train station.
The room is small, a studio apartment with a kitchen and bathroom. With an early morning train ride to Seki looming, Laura and I unfold the sofa beds and sleep early. Around 4:00am we are woken by the screams and moans of a woman, coming from the kitchen. As promised, Arif is staying the night, though he is not alone. His girlfriend is in the kitchen with him, and the flimsy concertina door is proving to be an ineffective sound barrier and she wails with pleasure. Laura and I turn to each other, debating in a whisper about whether we should say something or wait. We decide to wait, and lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling until they finish.
Caravansai accommodation in Seki, Azerbaijan
A Bike Ride to the Congo (Almost)
In June 2010 Burundi is preparing for Presidential elections. The incumbent, Pierre Nkurunziza, is favoured to win what is widely predicted to be a rigged vote. A decade before ‘stolen elections,’ become mainstream, yet another African strongman has them mastered.
Travel outside the capital, Bujumbura, is not recommended, and I am lucky to find a Belgian couple, Sara and David to host me. They keep me up to date with the pre-election happenings, including a spate of grenade attacks on nightclubs. With the World Cup underway in South Africa, bars and clubs are more popular than usual, and more dangerous. The day before the election David and I ride a couple of skeletal, rusted bicycles along the RN4, Bujumbura’s main highway. We make it to within touching distance of the DRC border before police turn us back. The majestic Virunga mountain range looms in the distance and it offers a peaceful retreat from the tension of Bujumbura.
A view of DRC from Burundi’s RN4 highway.
The Scofflaw
One of my first guests on Couchsurfing was Oliver, a twentysomething backpacker from New York. As most visitors to Melbourne do, Oliver hires a car and takes a trip along the Great Ocean Road. Weeks after he leaves, the infringement notices arrive – driving on a toll road without paying, and speeding. Oliver is long gone and may not even be in Australia. I call the number on the notice and explain the situation. Without hesitation, they cancel the fine. It’s that easy? Maybe I need to get myself a fake ID from overseas.
English classes in Najaf
There are few Western tourists passing through Najaf, one of Iraq’s most religious cities, and even fewer Couchsurfers. However, should you find yourself there, you will likely become acquainted with Miss Maram and her English language students. Maram invites every Couchsurfer she can find to sit in on her English class. During class we discuss topics such as abortion, women’s rights, geopolitics, and cross-cultural experiences when travelling. Some of the students share poetry they have written and play music. Maram’s class is an oasis of critical thinking and progressive conversation in a city that is steeped in tradition and solemn religious practices.
Miss Maram and her students in Najaf, Iraq
If you missed 20 years of Couchsurfing: part one, you can find it here, and if you haven’t tried Couchsurfing, I hope these stories inspire you to try - while there are some weird and wonderful stories, there are always more good people than not.
