Is Couchsurfing Safe? – My Near Nightmare in Honduras

Last Updated: June 10, 2022

My royal fumble in the El Salvador airport left me with little time to spare. I had hoped to be in San Pedro Sula, Honduras a couple days ahead of the Canada-Honduras World Cup Qualifying match, but I woke up the day of the match in Tegucigalpa and had to find my way the 4-6 hours to San Pedro Sula. It was January 27, 2022.

I was beyond excited, but nervous all the while. I’m in Honduras, not a country that has a glowing reputation for safety coming from their days as the OG banana republic, and I’m headed to San Pedro Sula – the former murder capital of the world.

I was born and raised in the former murder capital of Canada, and I’d never experienced so much violence as getting my Halloween candy stolen when I was 10 – but that’s Canada, and this is Honduras.

Is Couchsurfing Safe?

If you don’t know what Couchsurfing is, allow to me briefly explain. It’s a global network of hosts and ‘surfers’ organized through a website or app. Hosts open their homes to travelers and provide them a room, bed, couch, futon, or floor to sleep on – for free! It’s a fantastic way to get to know the local side of life in a place you’re visiting.

Is it safe? Yes. I’d say it’s about as safe as Uber – which is pretty safe. There is a rating system for both hosts and surfers and you can read the reviews of past surfers. Most hosts are incredibly friendly and welcoming people, they are opening their house to you for free after all.

That said, hosts are generally extroverted personalities who are interested in chatting, learning about you, and showing you around their city. You are going to meet some interesting characters without a doubt, but, you’re going to come away with a travel experience much more memorable than staying in a hotel or even a hostel. You’ll get a glimpse into the local life of the place you’re visiting, something that can be difficult to do as a traveler.

Couchsurfing is safe. Read the reviews and speak with your potential host before committing to anything. There’s no obligation to stay and only do so if you feel comfortable. Safe travels!

Back to the Story…

Being that there weren’t any affordable hostels in San Pedro Sula, and the fact that I didn’t want to go to the match alone as a supporter of the opposing team, I turned to Couchsurfing to see if I could, a) find someone to join me for the game, and b) find a place to stay.

I had a couple of positive responses and ended up agreeing to stay and go to the game with one of the hosts, Luis.

Luis met me at the bus terminal in San Pedro Sula. He had thick black hair, a new, clean compact SUV, and spoke English very well – as do a surprisingly large amount of Hondurans.

Within minutes of arriving at his house we were having a beer (a very nice craft one from La 20 Cerveceria I might add), and he was drawing me. Yeah, he had me pose on the couch with my beer and he drew me.

Odd, no doubt, but he had a book full of drawings of past Couchsurfers. He was into photography and clothing, an artsy kind of guy. So I posed, he drew, we laughed.

Luis said he had a futon in his room that folded flat that I could sleep on. Good enough for me – I’ll sleep wherever, right? I’m not paying. There was a German couple arriving shortly as well and they’d take the spare room. Cool – works for me.

With that matter settled, and the Germans arriving right on time – of course – the 4 of us went to the game. I had an awesome time. To my relief, the fans could hardly be bothered that there was an imposter among them and they were more occupied with hurtling insults at their own players.

“Dale arriba, pendejo”, “Es fútbol de la basura”, and the seemingly fan favourite “culero, culero, culero”. I mentioned this in the article I wrote about the game for OneSoccer but the editor thought it best to remove those colourful comments. Fair enough.

Canada went on to win 2-0, there were no riots or violence, and I got to see Jonathan David score an incredible goal – todo bien.

We went to a microbrewery after the match and after a few beers found our way home. Side note: if you’re in San Pedro Sula, and you like beer, you must go to La 20 Cerveceria – incredible tap room and outstanding beers. Anyways…

We got back to Luis’s place, the Germans went off to bed in their room, and Luis gave me a hand setting up the pull-out bed in his room. This is where the tone of the visit took a left turn real quick.

Luis looked up at me after we set up the futon and said, “I want you to sleep in my bed.”

Alright. Here we go. I knew Couchsurfing was too good to be true. There’s something about sleeping in another man’s sheets that gives me a weird, musty feeling I want no part of.

“What!? No. First, I don’t want to sleep in your bed. Second, you’re hosting me here for free. I’m not going to take your bed from you.”

He was persistent, “You have 3 options here. Either you sleep in my bed, we sleep on the futon together, or we sleep in my bed together.”

Well, I’m not sure how much experience Luis had in sales but talk about an offer I couldn’t refuse. In a short moment I went from thinking there was a 0% chance I was climbing in his bed, to nearly jumping in there as fast as I could. He’s good.

I slept in his bed – there was no funny business, he stayed on the futon. Couchsurfing is not boring, let me tell you that. I should add that this guy had a full, blown-up, framed photo of himself above his bed.

So, at that moment I had my suspicions about Luis, but I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. He was my gracious host and I was seeing a side of San Pedro Sula that I never would’ve seen had I come and stayed here on my own. Maybe he was trying to sleep with me, but maybe he was just a gracious and generous host. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.

Luis lived in a modest property with 3 different apartment units. It housed him in a 2-bedroom apartment, his parents in another, and his sister, her husband, and their son in the 3^rd unit. The family was very friendly and the 10-year-old boy took a particular liking to me. We’d chase each other around the property throwing limes at each other while his mother yelled at him to cut it out – and probably indirectly at me as well.

Day 2

The next day went well. Luis, the Germans, and I enjoyed a fun day around the city. We topped it off by going out for a few drinks at the El Estadio food truck park in SPS – another place I’d highly recommend visiting if you’re there.

We returned to Luis’s place that evening and again, the Germans went to their room and I headed into Luis’s room to start preparing for bed.

I was in his bathroom brushing my teeth wearing nothing but my underwear. I’m not sure if he took that as invitation or what, but Luis entered the bathroom shortly after me, also wearing nothing but his underwear.

So we’re both standing there in his tight, compact bathroom, a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, in nothing but our underwear. This in itself did not make me uncomfortable. I grew up playing a lot of team sports and I’m quite accustomed to being around lightly clothed or naked men. We were having quite a normal conversation about the evening and I was telling him how much I enjoyed the food truck park.

At some point, and I can’t remember exactly how it happened, Luis switched the conversation topic to pubic hair. Again, fair enough, still not uncomfortable. I even mentioned to him how I had recently shaved mine – too much information for you, perhaps, but it’s a vital piece of the story.

Luis must’ve thought he was never going to get a better opportunity than this and took his chance.

“Oh yeah? Let me see.” I probably would’ve responded with a wtf!? no thanks, but he never gave me that option. His hand reached toward the waistband of my underwear and in an instant he was staring down the barrel of my junk.

“Bro. What the hell are you doing?” I didn’t want to, but I knew that I could physically overpower him and put him on his ass swiftly if need be.

He didn’t get the go ahead he was looking for and started to backtrack. “No, no, no, what? Do you think I’m gay? No, you’ve got it all wrong. I just thought we were friends – here, look at mine.”

Before I could protest he already had his underwear down to his knees and now I’m standing there, in my underwear, him halfway out of his, and I’m looking at a cut of Honduran meat that I didn’t ask to see.

He’s looking at me as if his offering would make everything okay – like a cat bringing home a headless bird and leaving it on your doorstep. No, Tigger, this doesn’t please me.

Words were exchanged, I pushed my way out of the bathroom, and he continued pleading with me that this was all just a misunderstanding. And fair, there are some times when you’re in a new country when you do just have to chalk up weird instances to cultural misunderstandings. This time though, I’m pretty sure the Honduran line was crossed as well.

Nobody in the supermarket ever bumped into me by accident and apologized by unfastening their belt and lowering their zipper to show me how sorry they really were. But I was only in Honduras about a week, maybe I missed something.

Luis apologized for making me uncomfortable, swore to me he wasn’t trying to sleep with me, and wished me a goodnight.

Unfortunately, the next bus to El Salvador wasn’t for 2 days so I couldn’t really just hit the road immediately after waking up. I’d have to stay one more day with Luis.

Thank God for the Germans. That’s probably not a sentence said often in the last century, but they gave me a buffer from having to hang with Luis all day by myself. They didn’t know anything about the situation, but just having them there was comforting. Again, I wasn’t worried about Luis trying to assault me or anything like that, but just having to be around him all day and play the role of entertainer/conversationist in exchange for my free lodging was not something I wanted to do anymore.

Even still, he felt the need that next day to whip out his laptop and start showing me the porn website he likes to visit. Just an outrageous experience all around.

I got an Uber to the bus terminal at around 4am, woke Luis to thank him for my stay – and for not trying to diddle me more than once – and was on my way, laughing and shaking my head all the way to San Salvador.

Do I regret staying with Luis? Nah. I learned a lot about SPS and Honduras from him, which is really why I travel. I love to learn about different places and different ways of life. In that sense, Luis was invaluable. Plus, I have this ridiculous story I can tell forever.

Will I Couchsurf again? Possibly, but I didn’t love it. And not because I saw more genitals than I had initially anticipated. I just felt like I always had to be available to talk, or go to the store, or do what the host wanted to do. I felt guilty taking time for myself. I didn’t feel free to just lay down and listen to music or type away on my laptop. I felt I had to give back for the free accommodation.

But I wasn’t going to just bow my head and bend my knees to him. Truth be told, he probably would’ve wanted it the other way around.

Regardless, Couchsurfing gave me invaluable knowledge about the city and country I was in that I’d have never gotten otherwise. For that reason, I’d Couchsurf again. But, I’d be prepared to commit a full day or two to hanging out with the host and tell them interesting travel stories like this one.

You’re all but guaranteed to come away from Couchsurfing with a great experience, and perhaps an even better story.

Happy travels!

Follow along next as I make my way back to the city of shotguns, San Salvador, for the next Canadian qualifying match and find myself taken in by a group of Salvadoran supporters for the game, watching a 300+ pound man twerk the night away.

If you have any questions or want to get more travel ideas, you can find me on Instagram.

Photo by cottonbro at Pexels