Last year I joined Couchsurfing — which prompted a friend to remark: “I notice you’ve signed up for the secret way to get sex club.” But that wasn’t my (sole) motivation. I no longer travel as much as I used to, so I figured playing host to travellers would revive my spirit of adventure — without the hassle of getting injections, packing a bag or leaving my house.

It was only was after my guests began to arrive that I realised how much travelling has changed. They turned up — gadgets in hand — asking for the Wifi password. The next few hours were spent posting on social media, messaging friends, or chatting on Skype. They had left their homes behind but brought their online lives with them — so to a certain extent they hadn’t really left at all.

Travelling with an Internet connection is a double-edged sword; it makes an excellent servant but an awful master. Sites such as Couchsurfing allow you to meet new people — but what’s the point if you just surf the net on your mobile device when you arrive?

For me, travel is more than moving from place to place and seeing different things. It is about living with less, learning to surrender to things out of your control, and seeing who you are when the ground is moving beneath your feet.

I once spent a whole day in Nha Trang (Vietnam) searching for somewhere to stay. Everywhere was booked and I must have spoken to more than 50 people during the search. Yes, at the time it was awful, but I saw more of the city than I ever would have by booking online. I even went for drinks with three of the people I’d met that day. When I eventually found a place to stay it felt like a genuine achievement; there’s a certain romance to following an outdated map in a distant land  — but there’s nothing romantic about tailing a blue dot on Google maps to a reservation you made on Hostelworld.

As far as I can tell, the one part of travelling yet to be hijacked by the Internet is hitchhiking. A Korean girl (one of my first Couchsurfing guests) took great pleasure in sifting through my bins for a piece of cardboard, writing Prague on it, and then waiting at the roadside to hitch a lift. However, I’m sure this too will soon become a thing of the past. Someone will create a hitchhiking app called “Pick me up” or something (which sounds like a ‘not so secret’ way to get sex club).

But for all my old-man complaining, hosting on Couchsurfing hasn’t been an entirely negative experience. When my guests do unplug we share the kinds of conversations and experiences I remember so well from my own backpacking days. For that reason I haven’t deleted my Couchsurfing account just yet — so if you’re passing through České Budějovice and need a place to crash — send me a couch request. (Just, please, no guys).

*First published in Milk & Honey, České Budějovice, Czech Republic