There comes a point in most travelers’ lives where they feel the need to give back to the world. As travelers, we receive so much help from other people – home cooked meals, couches to sleep on, showers and washing machines, free rides in cars – with no expectation of monetary reimbursement. Instead, our “payment” for this exchange comes in the form of entertainment and inspiration. We make people’s days more interesting, open their minds to new lifestyles far outside the realm of their preconceptions, and give them something to tell their friends and family about.
Though these unquantifiable goods have their own value, it’s important to realize just how much we gain from things that are given to us, for free, simply because we are doing something that many people consider worthy of their support. This, in turn, gives us travelers a strong motivation to offer the type of hospitality that others have offered to us, in order to pay it forward to the world and enable more people to experience this type of fulfilling travel. Through one simple act of kindness and hospitality, the motivation is created for another person to offer their own kindness and hospitality, creating an ever-growing web of kindness that spreads throughout the world.
The more I traveled, the more I wanted to be able to help other people experience this same freedom to wander our fascinating world. Finally, after hitchhiking over 30,000 miles and having dozens of people open their homes to me, I rented a tiny studio apartment for 1.5 months in the ski town of Gudauri, Georgia. I had switched places from the traveler to the host.
Online hospitality platforms like Couchsurfing and Trustroots connect travelers with hosts who have free space in their homes. I was finally able to switch my couchsurfing status to “accepting guests” and accepted every single request that came to me. As the only active host in town, this often meant five to six travelers per night. One night I had eight guests; two sleeping on my bed, three on the pull-out couch, and two on the floor. We went to the market at night to buy some food, and there we encountered a hitchhiker, stuck in Gudauri due to the nighttime lull in traffic. Of course, I invited him to come occupy the remaining six square feet of floor. That night, I set my hosting record at nine travelers. It was amazingly fun to host so many people; every evening was filled with stories, food, and new friends in what otherwise would be an incredibly boring town after the last ski lift of the day.
After the ski season, I was back on the road, back to being on the other side of the traveling web of kindness. That summer I spent nearly four months in Russia and became a part of the most well-organized traveler network in the world. Hitchhiking is nothing new to Russians, nor is organization and structure, thus, online groups exist for everything a hitchhiker would ever need. Finding a host is simply a matter of typing in your destination city and receiving a message with the phone numbers of people who have agreed to accept hitchhikers as guests in their homes. Hitchhiking clubs and races exist around the country, and gatherings of 500-1,000 hitchhikers happen twice a year near Moscow, where everyone shares food, stories, and information from their travels. Anton Krotov’s Moscow-based Academy of Free Traveling (AVP) organizes these gatherings as well as the House-for-Everyone project. Members of AVP (anybody can be a member) raise money and rent houses for 1-3 months in various destinations around the world where they host any and all travelers who want to stay. Houses-for-Everyone function as alcohol-free, ever-changing communities of travelers where everybody contributes and shares everything.
Though not officially labelled “House-for-Everyone”, many similar nomad bases exist all over the world, especially in the homes of current and former Russian hitchhikers. In Kamchatka, I stayed in a three room house that had been rented by 15 hitchhikers who all pitched in for the summer’s rent and invited anyone who wanted to stay with them. They were all working as mountain guides, cooks, and porters for multi-day hiking trips, so people were coming in an out of the house all the time. Whenever somebody wanted to cook, they cooked enough for everybody. Whenever somebody bought food, it was shared by everybody. Nobody ever went hungry and the house remained in livable condition because everybody was committed to keeping the community happy. If someone didn’t have money, no problem, they could contribute by cleaning the house or playing music. The necessity to share was not forced upon anybody, but rather the desire to share was created simply due to the atmosphere in the house.
I stayed at another similar home on the outskirts of Moscow, this one owned by a man who works part-time as an alpine guide, hitchhikes to whichever mountain range he has work in, and simply loves to live in a communal atmosphere. And there are more, all around the world, where current, former, and even non-vagabonds are creating small communities in their homes. After experiencing life in these small utopian communities, I knew that this is how I want to live.
So, that’s exactly what I did. The next winter I was back in Gudauri again, but this time I wasn’t alone. Melody and I rented a 2-bedroom apartment with a nice big living room, an extra bunk bed and folding couch, and plenty of floor space. We called it Vagabond Ski Base, and it was a huge success! In one month, 49 travelers from 14 countries stayed with us, mostly hitchhikers, a few traveling by public transport, and even one winter cyclist. We had giant feasts, beer pong tournaments, and skied together nearly every day. By paying forward the kindness that other hosts had shown me, I was also ensuring myself a fun and memorable winter. Helping others without expectation of payment both gave me a sense of personal satisfaction that is unparalleled in business transactions, and the guests an appreciation of humanity and the desire to help others in a similar way; it’s really a win-win situation.
Though I would never ask for money from a couchsurfer, I was able to provide a few of them with money for their future travels. As my ski school grew, I had the opportunity to offer well-paying, short-term jobs to a few of the travelers who had ski instructing experience – something I would have been stoked about if it happened to me while on the road. It worked out really nicely, as most travelers are flexible, personable, and easygoing people who have a smile on their face, are great at communicating with everybody, and are excited about what they do, i.e., exactly the qualities that make a good ski instructor.
That’s how I met Rob. He sent a request for 2 nights but ended up staying for 3 weeks, working for me, and even taking over the co-host position when Melody was out of town. As the ski season was wrapping up, I traveled for 2 weeks to visit family and friends, and met Rob upon my return to Georgia. That day we decided to rent an apartment together in Tbilisi, and the next afternoon we moved in. Hosting travelers was a given.
Due to the large amount of Couchsurfing hosts in Tbilisi and the relatively low number of travelers in April, we didn’t receive as many requests as in Gudauri, but still hosted 29 people in our month living there, ensuring that our couch and floor were always properly occupied. Yet again, we had numerous delicious meals cooked by guests from around the world, beers on the balcony in the evenings, and the excitement of living in one of the world’s fastest-developing cities. Within walking distance, we could buy all of our groceries from village babushkas who sold their home-grown produce at the bazaar, we could party at Tbilisi’s biggest Berlin-esque underground nightclub, and we could walk to Georgia’s hippest bar/hostel/restaurant/boutique shopping/co-working space/cafe/party complex.
Halfway through the month, Detti, a silk road cyclist, sent us a request to stay a couple nights. From the first moment, it was clear that she fit in perfectly in our little community, and she soon decided to stay the full two weeks until we moved out. When Rob and I left for a weekend ski mountaineering trip, she stayed home and hosted more travelers in our absence. When we moved out, she continued onward to Azerbaijan, while I remained in Tbilisi with no idea what to do for the summer. Upon seeing a cheap and nice used bicycle, I knew my fate had been chosen for me. Two days later, I boarded a train to Baku to meet Detti with my bicycle and a backpacks-turned-panniers, and now I’m writing this after seven straight days of riding through the Kazakh and Uzbek desert. We have no idea what random acts of kindness await us along the road, but one thing is for sure: the next time we have a home and a kitchen, we’ll pay it forward to anyone who appears at our doorstep, and we sincerely hope that you’ll do the same.
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