By Hannah Kirkbride

Water from the plastic jug falls over my head in long douses. This daily ritual has become a normal part of my time in the Sudan, as every morning I am lulled awake by the sweets sounds of Arabic, followed by a quick shower from a bucket. One of the town’s greatest ironies: no running water, but e-mail every day.

Before leaving on this journey, I jotted down my ambitions in the undertaking. Now, halfway through a thirteen-month trip around the world, I consider my goals with a new perspective: First, gain professional exposure to non-government organizations and missions work. Writing from a month-long stint in the Sudan, I’m on track. Second, feed a love of travel. Nineteen countries and counting is a good start. Third, know people. Enter Couchsurfing.com.

Here’s how it works: hosts from all over the world register as part of couchsurfing. Their homes are then available to travelers for no charge. An economical way to travel, yes, but the real value is experiencing the world through the lives of locals, rather than tourist-flooded hotels. Members connect using a database of profiles, sorted by city, country, language, gender, age, and interests. Before arriving at a city, a traveler contacts a listed host asking for accommodation. If the host agrees, they proceed to communicate dates and details. The “couch” can be anything from the floor to a bed. And for peace of mind, a trust system similar to eBay allows members to rank and review potential hosts or visitors. 

Many floors, beds and couches later, I cannot imagine seeing the world in any other way. How else would I find myself at the Riverdance prima dona’s birthday party in a farmhouse in Provence, France, eating sushi and sipping champagne?  What other travel experience would enable me to stay one week with two Greek sisters in their Athens apartment, only to have them send me for a special visit to their parents’ house in a small village for my last night?  What are the chances of traveling for two weeks with a quad-lingual Kurdish carpet salesman through his homeland in southeast Turkey?  These are among the fondest memories of my entire trip, and I have Couchsurfing.com to thank for each.

Of course, these are the highlights. I still shudder when remembering the less romantic scenarios. There was the time when I was given careful instructions for sweet-talking my way past a large German Shepherd while my host was away. And I won’t easily forget the smell as I shook the hand of a wild-eyed and disenfranchised Danish environmentalist who hadn’t cleaned his apartment in a year, “If I’d know you were coming (I’d contacted him 10 days earlier), I would have cleaned.” Then there was the conniving politician-in-the-making who used couchsurfing as a platform to solicit safari business in Kenya. These were “marginal” experiences, but I can say I’ve learned as much or more from those people as from those who didn’t have me on my guard.