Worldwide Belonging

Note: I just had a fabulous weekend and will write another blog detailing the fabulousness. However, in this particular posting, I just wanted to try to convey my thoughts and feelings regarding the phenomenon of Couchsurfing. So, no pics with this post, or daily recaps. Just pontification.

A little less than a year ago I lived in Washington, DC, had been living there for over two years, and had vaguely heard of something called Couchsurfing. It seemed like in a short span of time – over the course of a few weeks, maybe – I came across the term several times, once in a magazine, once in an online forum, maybe a third time from a friend who’d heard something about it. It sounded like a bizarre group of people who would let complete strangers sleep on their couches if they were traveling. I shrugged off the references until one night, I came across the term yet again while reading a travel blog. At that point, it seemed like I should learn more, so I Googled it, went to the website, and before long I had a profile on it, had joined the Washington, DC, group, and explored the FAQ section.

Couchsurfing is an organization for travelers, to put it simply. And it is, really, incredibly simple: if you are interested in travel, people from around the world, and the idea of there being a common bond between such people, then Couchsurfing is for you. It is absolutely obligation-free, too. When I first joined, I didn’t feel that I could possibly host anyone. Strangers staying in my little DC apartment? With my work schedule? Uh-uh. I don’t remember, now, if I went to a social event with the DC group first, but within a month of lurking on the website, I decided that hosting DID sound like fun. So, I set up my profile to show the information I wanted to convey: one person at a time, only women, maximum stay of three days over a weekend. I described my “couch”: an air mattress in my living room. I described my location, myself, my general view on life.

Within a few weeks, I had a request: Fiona from the Philippines was living in New York City as a nanny and wanted to come to DC for the Cherry Blossom Festival weekend. I cautiously e-mailed her back, asking some questions, trying to get a feel for this stranger. She promptly wrote back, giving me her phone number and asking a few questions herself. Finally I accepted her “couch request,” and the next weekend we met in front of my apartment building. I welcomed her into my freshly (and nervously) cleaned apartment, showing her around and trying to assess her. Fiona was a confident, cheerful, friendly and energetic woman who had gotten bored of her successful finance manager career in the Philippines and decided to travel, working to support herself along the way.

We spent the weekend wandering DC and the Cherry Blossom festival together. She asked if she could stay an extra night so she could meet a relative coming into town on Monday and I automatically agreed, leaving her in the apartment early in the morning when I left for work. She had taught me how to make a Philippino chicken dish called adobo, encouraged me to "lead” an event (meeting up for fireworks with other Couchsurfers) via the website, and completely sold me on the entire Couchsurfing ideology.

In short, as she put it, “Some people can Couchsurf. Some people can’t. It’s all good.”

It’s true.

Since then, I’ve hosted several people from all over the world: Ukranian girl, English girl, Lithuanian girl, Indonesian guy, German guy, American guys, etc; met people out for drinks or lunch or dinner on the spur of the moment, when they posted that they were alone in a strange city; led events in DC and attended others, surfed couches in Hong Kong, Thailand, Vietnam, Australia; camped in South Korea and New Zealand; hiked; chatted; and fallen in love with the phenomenon of Couchsurfing.

An example: this past weekend, there was a massive Couchsurfing event in Turangi, New Zealand. Over a hundred of us camped together and hiked the Tongariro Crossing together. There was a guy from Texas there and as we exchanged our basic stories, we commiserated on the fact that many people back home had no understanding of why a person, of any age, would give up a good job, leave home and comfort, and travel the world in uncertainty in adventure. He started to try to explain his basic drive to do all this, then stopped, looked at me, and grinned. I grinned back and said,

“That’s the great thing about Couchsurfing. You don’t have to explain. Everyone gets it.”

And it’s absolutely true. The main questions asked between Couchsurfers are where you’ve been and where you’re going.

Last night, I surfed in Rotorua with fourteen other people. We stayed at a Brazilian-turned-kiwi guy’s place, all spread out on the floor of a big rec room. There was a guitar jam, singing, cards, laughing, a light-ball twirling show and above all, a feeling of camaraderie and community with these people we’d all just met this weekend, and who we’d be parting ways with the next day.

Amongst Couchsurfers, one doesn’t have to explain anything. You’re there. You belong there. And the entire world is our meeting place.

--Z