20 years of Couchsurfing, pt. 1

Twenty years ago, while backpacking around the world, someone told me about a website (apps didn’t exist in 2006), called Couchsurfing. They told me that people all over the world were signing up to offer their couches and spare beds to travellers. As a shoestring traveller, Couchsurfing sounded amazing – a free place to stay, and an opportunity to make new friends all over the world!

In the two decades since its inception, Couchsurfing has grown and changed (not always for the better) and is now an institution. I have hosted and been a guest throughout this time, and the following are some of the highlights (and lowlights) from those 20 years.

The First Host

After creating my Couchsurfing profile, I set out to find my first host. Los Angeles was the next destination on my travels, and Californians are renowned as early adopters of technology and enthusiastic embracers of social movements. It was no surprise that I found a host without much trouble. Jason was that guy, also in his mid-20s, and working as an independent filmmaker. He was a fantastic first host, an embodiment of the Couchsurfing spirit of curiosity, welcoming, and generosity. Jason even set me up with a host in San Francisco, phoning his ex-girlfriend Leah, and asking her to host an Aussie backpacker he had known only a few days. In a strange twist of fate, Leah and her then boyfriend moved to Miami the following year, and I was able to stay with them again when on my way to Jamaica and Cuba. It was hard to imagine a better start to my Couchsurfing journey.

Inappropriate Sex #1

In 2007 I am living in Brisbane, in a share house with Megan, Nora, and Elena. The summer holidays are approaching and I’m planning a two-month trip to Southeast Asia. I don’t want to give up my room, so I post an ad on Couchsurfing to see if anyone wants to sublet for two months. Tom, a twentysomething guy from New Zealand is keen. We meet for a coffee and he seems cool. The next weekend, our friend Ana is having a house party, and I invite Tom. He accepts an offer to stay at our place after the party, on a spare mattress in the loungeroom.

The morning after the party I return home shortly after dawn, having crashed on the couch at Ana’s place. Tom is asleep on the mattress, his girlfriend lying next to him. A light sheet covers them, tracing the outline of their bodies. When Nora hears me return, she rushes into my room.

‘He cannot stay here,’ she whispers.

‘Why, what happened?’

‘They were up all night fucking in the loungeroom! We couldn’t sleep, and we could see and hear everything! He’s gross Stu, you have to talk to him, tell him he’s not staying.’

As Nora discloses, Tom and his girlfriend stir. Soon, we hear kissing noises and moaning. Nora punches me in the arm, ‘you see, I told you! They’re going to start again!’

Sure enough, they do! Nora and I lay in stunned silence. My bedroom door is wide open, and there is no illusion of privacy – for anyone. The moans and groans, and eventual orgasm, echo throughout the rickety wooden Queenslander home.

When it’s over Nora and I emerge from my bedroom, and Megan and Elena join us shortly after. With a cup of tea in hand, I ask Tom to come and have a chat on the back porch. He is confused and upset at the reversal of the offer, with his only defence being the hotness of his girlfriend. I concede she’s attractive but stress there is a time and a place for these things, and neither last night, nor this morning, were it. Tom leaves, glaring at Nora on the way out, and I never see or hear from him again.

Summer Nights in Bulgaria

Dimitar, a gregarious man in his 30s with a mop of long, curly hair, welcomes me to his apartment in Sofia, Bulgaria. The three-bedroom dwelling overlooks parkland, and a mattress on the floor in a spare bedroom is mine, ‘for as long as you want.’ On top of the fridge are dozens of half empty bottles of alcohol, and I am encouraged to ‘drink as much as you like.’ The summer of 2017 is off to a good start, as I couchsurf and hitchhike my way through Central and Eastern Europe.

On my first night with Dimitar, he takes me to a local restaurant. As he downs shots of vodka, Dimitar tells me how he slept with one of the waitresses a few days ago. He offers to put in a good word for me if I’m interested. If not, he can find me another girl. Thanks, mate, but no thanks.

Back at his apartment, Dimitar strips down to his underpants (granted, it is a warm evening), and pours drinks for the both of us. Unprompted he continues sharing stories of his sexual conquests, offers surprisingly sage travel advice for my journey, and stresses the importance of me understanding, and accepting, that the Russian alphabet originates from the Bulgarian alphabet. Despite his unconventional approach, Dimitar is one of my all-time favourite hosts. His generosity knows no bounds, and I end up staying a week, including a trip to his family’s holiday home with his brother’s family.

BBQ dinner with Dimitar and co. in Bulgaria

Appropriate Sex

In 2025, I couchsurf through Iraq, from Basra in the south to Erbil in the north. In Baghdad I am hosted by Jabor, a host who I never meet. He travels often and entrusts his second apartment to couchsurfers. Before arriving, Jabor sends me a video on WhatsApp showing where the keys to his apartment are hidden, and instructions on entering.

It is midday when I reach the apartment. The keys are there under the brick, yet the door won’t open. I try with all the different keys and then call Jabor. He says that maybe his friend is there and has locked the door from the inside. I should knock, he says.

A minute later, Yousif opens the door.

‘Hi, I thought you were coming later,’ Yousif says, clearly distracted.

‘Yeah, I thought so, but the trip was quicker than I expected.’

‘Oh, ah, well, you see… I have someone here. Could you come back later?’

‘Sure, but can I drop my bags and have a shower, then I’ll come back later?’

‘Ok, just don’t come upstairs,’

I come to learn, through discussions with Yousif, that Jabor’s apartment is available for any of his friends who need to ‘entertain.’ In Iraq, there are precious few private spaces for young lovers. Hotels will not rent rooms to unmarried couples, it is rare to move out before marriage, and ‘parking’ is not a realistic option. During my time in Baghdad, Yousif and I arranged to share the apartment, and it worked out well for everyone.

African Village Life

In early 2026 I returned to Arusha, Tanzania where I lived from 2009 – 11. There are few hosts in Arusha, with many couchsurfers only able to meet up. The site is commonly used as a platform for tour guides to find clients. It’s not really the spirit of couchsurfing to use the app for business purposes, but I can understand why it happens.

Luckily, I was able to find a wonderful host in Martin, who like Dimitar, offered his hospitality for as long as I needed. In an even bigger stroke of good luck, Martin and his family live in the same village that I used to live in! Spending a week back in the village was like travelling back in time, wandering those same tracks, and visiting the houses of old friends. Martin works as a tour guide, and if you’re looking for a mountain hike or safari, I would recommend getting in contact with him.

That’s it for Part 1 of this Couchsurfing retrospective, Part 2 is coming soon :)

Taiwan Obscura: Unearthing the Strange and Unusual