‘Who Would Ever Want to Invite You Into Their Home?’

Speaker's Corner: Ramon Stoppelenberg asked the world to let him stay for a day. The world said, "Come on over."

02.03.09 | 10:04 AM ET

My parents often wondered why I frittered away my time sitting at my PC. I was living with them, you see, and they were strongly of opinion that the many hours I surfed the web might be far more profitably employed pursuing my school career. Doing my homework, for example.

I, on the other hand, felt confident that my incessant internet-surfing would in the end prove to be very fruitful. Like most youngsters, I was a fervent believer in the boundless potential of the internet to bring people together, allowing them to know each other regardless of distance and location.

In the autumn of 1999, some college friends and I drove to Madrid and Barcelona, starting from Zwolle, a medium-sized town in the Netherlands. We rode in a ramshackle old car that I had bought second-hand from a teacher at my college. Within a week of our return, I desperately wanted to set out again.

MORE: An Interview With Ramon Stoppelenburg: The Godfather of CouchSurfing

About a year later, I suggested to my friends that we repeat the experience, but none of us had the money or the time for it. Or a car anymore. Such trips abroad were things to dream about wistfully.

One fateful night in December 2000, I was lounging in front of my TV, zapping away my ennui. The hour was late, the reruns were disappointing, those silly give-us-a-ring-if-you-know-the-answer games definitely seemed to be catering to morons, and the American talk show on was, well, it was Jenny Jones. The theme was “young internet entrepreneurs,” with various guests discussing the fact that they owed their success to a flash of wit, a playfully conceived idea. Something they did for a prank, more or less.

I was suddenly all ears. I sat up, curious and, somehow, intrigued. Rich Schmidt, an American, told the story of having launched Sendmeadollar.com. Paying one dollar into Schmidt’s bank account entitled a visitor to post a message on his site. The site was flourishing. The dollar counter had hit $3,000. Fascinated by these novel methods of making easy money, I slipped into daydreaming about travels once again. 

How long could I make $3,000 last, traveling, meeting people, exploring history and culture, enjoying life hugely? My scheme emerged from the drowsy haziness of daydreaming. I decided not to stay in hotels. My purpose would be served better by staying in people’s private homes. Why shouldn’t I invite people to invite me the same way Rich Schmidt had invited people to donate their dollars? Was there all that much difference between the good ol’ brother-can-you-spare-a-dollar (online version) and my request through the same medium for a place to stay for a night?

The idea quickly grew on me. I scoured the Web for people asking for a sleeping place on their travels round the world, but found nothing. Such a website would be the first of its kind—or so it seemed. I jotted down possible domain names. A catchy domain name was, of course, essential. I soon hit on Letmestayforaday.com. It was a succinct statement of my intentions.

I spent the next few months putting my idea into practice. This entailed registering my domain name for 35 Dutch guilders. I designed and copyrighted a logo, turned photographs of myself into JPEGs and put them on my website, wrote an introductory page and headed it with the question “Will you invite me?” 

Of course, I wanted to do something in return for the hospitality received. On my website, I would give a day-by-day account of my travels: my experiences, the things I saw, the difficulties I coped with, people I would meet on my way and how they lived their lives.

I went to my parents to tell them of my project, feeling proud of myself and full of confidence.

“I’m going to travel,” I said. “I’m getting myself invited by people through the internet. It’s never been done before, you know.”

My mother said nothing. She replaced her cup of coffee on its saucer emphatically before she looked at my father.

“What about your graduation schedule?” my father asked.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to quit my studies,” I said. “I have no idea how long my trip will take. I might well be back home within a week, or be away for months.”

“Are you still set on finishing your studies?” my father inquired.

Back in 1995, I had embarked on a course of study that would send me out into the world, put me into the world as a professional journalist. But six years later, I still hadn’t quite got around to graduating. Of course, I should have stuck to my core business, attending class and doing assignments. But there always seemed to be much else to do.

“I can graduate any time in the near future,” I said. I hoped it sounded credible.

“But how are you going to do it?” my mother persisted. “This traveling, I mean. You’ve got no money at all!”

“If I get enough invitations to go hitchhiking from one destination to the next,” I said, “I won’t need any money at all.”

She entrenched herself on her last line of defense. “And what if you’re murdered?” she said. “Someone might kill you on the road. Or you might become seriously ill.”

I hadn’t thought of that, not for a single moment. Why should anybody want to kill me? For monetary gain? Me? With my pockets full of emptiness? I wasn’t afraid of that. I figured if you’re afraid to go, you’d better stay home.

Many times I had bombarded my friends with my idea of roving all over the world, simply by getting myself invited through the internet. On most occasions they responded to my passion with some well-aimed common sense.

“Traveling by invitation?” asked one of my lady friends. “Who, in his right mind, would ever want to invite you into their home?!”

Stoppelenburg launched his website on Monday, March 12, 2001. Two hours later, several Dutch blogs had spotted it. Soon media around The Netherlands and the world discovered letmestayforaday.com, and so did hosts. Sponsorships came his way. On May 1, 2001, he became the subject of the first-ever blog post on World Hum—and began his free travels with 675 invitations to stay for free in 65 different countries.