The Reality of Couchsurfing

Couchsurfing is a website with a wonderful, radical mission. If you become a member, you have three choices: being a host for fellow members that are traveling (which means you provide them with a ‘couch’—or a place to stay), ‘surfing’ or staying at other members’ places when you are traveling, or just having fun (which means coming to their gatherings or finding travel buddies and traveling together).

            

The mission is completely social—you don’t pay when you surf, you don’t get money when you host. Travel like a local is their slogan. In short, the mission gives you opportunities for a real cultural exchange because you don’t get information from travel guides that you pay. You can also see things from the locals’perspective, do things that they do, not the ones meant for tourists.

            

Pretty cool, right?

            

Yet a lot of people have negative views on that based on fear. You’re afraid to host strangers in your house. What if they got bad intentions? If they come from the same country, you understand them better so you can predict quite accurately the things they might and might not do. But if they’re from another countries, maybe they’ll do things unacceptable for you, things you don’t expect or imagine, let alone anticipate.

            

One of the biggest fears: none of us wants to get robbed. Maybe you work outside your house every day. There’s a lot of time when you have to leave your surfers alone. Or if you are the surfer, you’re afraid that your host has strange ideas in his or her head. You’re coming to his territory, anyway. He knows the place much better than you. He knows how things work there. And he’s got friends. What do you got? Your power is small. In a sense, it’s like gambling with your own safety.

            

But how’s the reality?

            

Is it that bad?

            

Well, yes and no.

            

I’ve been a Couchsurfing member since 2013. I hosted people a few times in Jakarta, but most of my Couchsurfing experiences I got in Bali (now I have moved to another city). I hosted, surfed, and traveled with fellow members to all parts of the island. And I had plenty of good times. Even the bad ones were still acceptable.

            

How was that possible? You just have to be selective when you get couchrequests, selective when you try to find a host, selective even when you try to find travel partners. And fortunately, Couchsurfing gives you ways for that.

            

Every member has a reference section on their profiles. The references are left by fellow members who have been in touch with them in real life. There are three types of reference: positive, neutral, negative. There more positive references you’ve got, the better. That means a lot of people have had good experience with you. Nobody wants to get negative references because people won’t trust you any more. Nobody wants to see you, let alone surf at your place or host you.

            

In a way, it’s like you audition people. You see their profiles, check their photos, and read the references they’ve got. It should be enough to decide whether somebody is cool and trustworthy or not.

            

You could argue that a sick person would set up fifty different profiles, upload photos of other people, and leave references on each account—in short, creating fake identities and making them seem real. It is possible, of course, but until now I haven’t met this sick person. The point is you have to be cautious but in control at the same time. Just because you can imagine things doesn’t mean they exist. Even if they do exist doesn’t mean they are near you and potentially harm you. Always check with those around you.

            

So, do bad things happen in Couchsurfing activities? Yes, but they usually happen to people with low survival level and cautiousness. For example, you host somebody with a suspicious or incomplete profile and has no reference. You choose a host recklessly without doing your homework (checking his or her profile and so on). How can you trust this person? And how can you be so naive thinking every member is good and has the true Couchsurfing spirit?

            

In the end, based on my own experience, Couchsurfing isn’t as scary as people think. If you’re afraid to get robbed, maybe your house is being robbed at the moment and you will find out later when you get home. If you’re afraid of bad things, you are a source of bad things to other people. So don’t be a hypocrite. Don’t hide under a table on the corner. Life is more exciting when you reach out. 

Image taken from here. 

Why People Hate Backpackers

When I lived in Bali, my life was all about Couchsurfing. I hosted some travelers at my apartment. I traveled to all parts of the island with fellow members and spent a night at a brewery because my host happened to be the general manager of a famous beer brand. I also participated in their weekly gathering in Kuta.

            

One evening I chitchatted with a host in the community about backpackers. Say his name was Bob. He had been a member much longer than me, so he had more experience. The interesting part was when he told me why he didn’t host backpackers any more.

            

“They’re problems,” he said. “They’re freeloaders, dependent, taking without giving, wanting everything for free. Every time I hosted a backpacker, he finished my monthly stock of instant noodle, snacks, and everything. Did they buy anything for me? No. They didn’t even buy anything for themselves. Did they ever buy me a beer to thank me after providing them a place to stay? No. They just left.”

            

“That’s just what backpackers do, isn’t it?” I said. “They try to be very efficient with their money because they want to visit as many countries as possible. Maybe they hitchhike through southeast Asia. Maybe some of them bring tents and just set them up at city parks when they’re tired.”

            

“Shouldn’t be that extreme. Normal travelers are not like that. You don’t feel like they’re taking advantage of you. They’re more interested in you and more concerned about you and your needs. Of course they sleep at your place to keep their expenses low, but when they’re there, they care about you. They could be friends with you. They don’t see you merely as somebody that could help their personal travel plan succeed.”

            

I understood what he was trying to say. I’d once had a similar experience. It just doesn’t feel good to have somebody that needs you around, but actually doesn’t give a shit about you.

            

Until now I’m still friends with all my travel partners, the ones I consider as normal travelers, not dependent backpackers. Most of them are already back in their countries, but we still talk on Skype, chat, and leave comments on Facebook. It happens because we’re friends. We are interested in each other.

            

What about with backpackers?

            

I once hosted a backpacker in Jakarta. A 24 year old girl. Everything that Bob said happened. I drove her around to show what my hometown was like. After a while, I took her to a cafe, but she didn’t want to buy anything because she thought everything was too expensive. Let me be clear: one glass of iced cappucinno costs thirty thousand rupiahs—less than two euros for her. It should’ve been me, not her, that thought everything was too expensive.

            

Because I didn’t feel like drinking alone, I asked her where she wanted to go. She took me on a very long, uncertain walk because she wanted a cup or glass of coffee that only cost five thousand rupiahs. I found that behavior a little bit too much and really unnecessary, especially coming from somebody with euros on her bank account.

            

Then it started to rain and we sat in the lobby of a building. Waiting and having nothing to do, she stood up and bought a takoyaki that cost fifteen thousand rupiahs. Apparently, I said to myself, it just dawned on her that she had money in her wallet.

            

The next day, she tried to trick a bar. So we ordered a pitcher of beer and the waiter made a mistake: he gave us two menus—the normal one and the promotional one that was already outdated. On the outdated promotional menu, the price of a pitcher of beer was cheaper. Twenty thousand rupiahs cheaper.

            

She said to me, “Elia, later when we’re gonna pay, just say we ordered a pitcher of beer because we thought the price would be according to the promotional menu. If they say it is not valid any more, say we didn’t notice. They gave it to us so it’s their mistake and they can’t blame us for not noticing.”

            

I didn’t think for a second to reject the idea. For me, the waiter’s mistake is one thing, and trying to trick the bar by taking advantage of his mistake is just uncool. Besides, it was only twenty thousand rupiahs (if it was a million, I would’ve been the one coming up with the idea). In the end, she insisted doing it her way and gave me money based on her own calculation and I even had to pay for her meal as well.

            

How is my relationship with her now?

            

We don’t talk to each other any more. Like we never met.

            
And like Bob, now I always think twice about hosting a backpacker again. 

Are White People in Bali Annoying?

If you live in Bali, you must know that people don’t really get along with the Australians. The only people that can tolerate them are fellow Australians and the locals who work in tourism. Other than those two, nobody.

My friend from another continent once told me that she had a cultural shock seeing Australian young people in Kuta. She said that in where she lives, nobody sits in a cafe or drives a scooter around town with no shirt on or in bikini. Once they leave the beach, they wear normal clothes.

Another friend from another country said, “The Indonesians here must think white people don’t know how to behave properly, but the only people that behave like that are the Australians.”

I must agree that their behavior gives the island some bad effects. For instance, people don’t like Kuta any more because the crowd isn’t cool. Even worse, people don’t like Bali as if Bali is only Kuta.

But is it true that Australian people are annoying?

Maybe most of us are just too lazy to learn and try to understand, so we generalize. A lot of people hate the Americans because they’re perceived as arrogant, too conscious that they come from the most powerful country in the world—but I’ve got American friends that are not like that. A lot of people hate the French because they’re not friendly, unwilling to help unless you speak French—but I know some people from there that are not like that.

So I’ve made a theory about the Australians in Bali, especially the young ones. In their own country, cigarettes are very expensive. There’s almost no public place where they can smoke. People are only allowed to buy alcoholic drinks, including beer, after they’re 18. And the rules are strict, nothing like in Indonesia where you can bend them all you want and nothing happens.

No wonder that most Australian people in Kuta are teenagers. They probably come to Bali to smoke thousands of cigarettes, get drunk, party wild, and break the rules. They see Bali, which is part of Indonesia where the rules are a bag of lousy jokes, as a perfect place to mess around. They see Bali as a paradise in an ugly way.

I’ve never been to Australia, but people say that the Australians don’t behave like that in their country. They’re normal. And it often happens that when the grown-up Australians come to Bali, they feel ashamed of these teenagers.

In Bali sometimes our mood suddenly drops when we know that somebody—say, our travel partner or a friend we just made—comes from Australia. But we have to remind ourselves that not everybody is the same. We can’t just generalize. As an Indonesian, I wouldn’t like it if I was badly treated or seen as a stupid person from an always-developing—or third world?—country just because I’m from Indonesia, as though there are no bright people in the country.

Quite recently I went to a restaurant with some foreign people and asked the waiter what’s the best they had. Pointing at a dish on the menu, he said, “Usually the locals order this one.”

You can probably guess what happened next. I didn’t order that thing he pointed. Even if it was the only food they had that night, I would prefer to leave and eat somewhere else. Why? Because nobody likes to be generalized. Nobody likes it when his or her individuality is not recognized. As if we don’t have our own personality. As though all Australians are the same.