April 27, 2026, 8:55 am | Read time: 6 minutes
Ina, a 59-year-old from Germany, has traveled through numerous countries around the world. In Europe, she often journeys in her converted camper van and has undertaken many fearless solo trips. However, she sometimes finds herself in situations she’d rather avoid. This was the case on one of her recent trips to Austria, where she intended to treat herself to a warm accommodation instead of staying in her camper. Unfortunately, the Airbnb she booked turned out to be a complete nightmare. She shares her experience with TRAVELBOOK.
Report: Alexandra Cavelius
After starting from the Allgäu and traveling nearly 3,000 kilometers to Romania, staying in simple vacation homes or deserted forest campsites, I wanted to pamper myself on the way home through Austria with a nice accommodation in a secluded manor house. Until then, I had always felt safe. I booked my last night through Airbnb for about 90 euros. Unfortunately, I didn’t listen to my inner voice, which quickly warned me: “Leave while it’s still daylight!” In hindsight, I must admit it was my fault. This led to a creepy night I won’t forget. I share my story here so other women can react faster than I did.
Doubts Came Quickly
“How romantic,” I thought when I discovered the freshly yellow-painted farmhouse nestled among wild vines in the online photos. The garden had wildflowers and ivy-covered stone benches. Located between Linz and Passau, surrounded only by nature. I had only skimmed the house descriptions and few online reviews. One was good, the other critical regarding cleanliness. But I’m not picky, and of course, there are people who always find something to complain about. The room I chose looked large and clean, nostalgic and bright in the photo.
My contact person online had offered to pick me up from the parking lot with a wheelbarrow to transport my luggage along a roughly 200-meter path through the woods, but I shouldered my backpack myself and set off. My knee-high mixed-breed dog ran ahead, wagging his tail, while I admired the fairy-tale forest, where soon the manor house appeared among gnarled trees, attached to an old farmhouse. “Maybe 19th century,” I estimated the age and thought: “Wow, it looks just as enchanted as in the photos.” I was still unaware of what awaited me there.
Struggle Against Reluctance
A woman around 30 greeted me warmly. I hesitated because her jacket was adorned with large patches. She had several rags tied around her narrow hips like skirts. In a movie, this would probably be a witch’s house and she the wicked witch, I thought. Herbs were laid out for sale everywhere or hung in bunches from the beams. She said she had heated the house just for me. Hopefully, it wasn’t too warm for me? “No, no,” I said, as it was quite chilly in the old building.
She immediately showed me two tiled outhouses on the ground floor. I flinched because everything was very dirty. No faucet for handwashing. Instead of a door, there was a yellowed curtain. “The outhouse brings back funny childhood memories,” I recalled a sentence from the host’s description of the accommodation. I had imagined it differently.
My host led me over to the farmhouse. As pictured, there was my wooden room, with a bathroom and shower in the hallway. However, no toilet. And instead of a bed, to my great disappointment, there was an old pull-out couch. I could have left again, but it was too cold for me to sleep in the camper.
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Suddenly Fear Crept Up
Soon after, the friendly-looking host introduced himself. While I shivered in my parka, the bearded man chatted in a T-shirt about the old family estate. As soon as he left, I wanted to light the wood stove. “Yuck,” I exclaimed as I reached for a piece of wood, as the logs in the tub were covered in mouse droppings. The fire soon burned, but the stove couldn’t heat the large room. The temperature felt stuck around six degrees. I decided to quickly use the bathroom. But I couldn’t find a light switch. And suddenly fear crept up.
The hallway was dark and winding, only the beam of my flashlight visible. Who knows who might meet me around the next corner? I heard my heart pounding in my ears as I recalled the host’s words that he was a bachelor and enjoyed the company of nice women. He had his room somewhere down there. My imagination ran wild. In the program, a horror film à la Stephen King. “You’re here all alone as a woman!” became increasingly clear to me.
I actually made it to the bathroom, but it had no doors I could lock behind me. I quickly lifted the heavy wooden lid over the hole, but at that moment, an icy draft from the depths of the shaft rushed upward, howling like a startled ghost. I froze in horror and thought: “Whoever falls in there will never come out again!” I immediately slammed the lid shut and hurried up in the dancing beam of the flashlight to curl up in my ice chamber on the thin mattress of the couch.
“Sleep!” I commanded myself. But as soon as I closed my eyes, mice scurried in the ceiling, on the floor, and near me over the kitchen counter. Heavier footsteps followed on the wooden floor above. “Dong, dong, dong.” Rats? Martens? No idea! I didn’t want to know either. Suddenly a step creaked! What if that bearded man suddenly stood before me? My little dog would probably be the first to save herself. With clammy fingers, I typed what might be my last message to my husband on my phone: “If you’re looking for my body, I’m probably in the woods or the outhouse!”
Get Out of There!
As soon as dawn broke over the forest, I was behind the wheel of my camper. Get out of there! Later, I wrote a review on the Airbnb site suggesting that hosts provide lockable doors for solo female travelers and address the mouse problem.
Looking back, I would advise all women: If you want to ensure that the accommodation meets your expectations as a solo female traveler, it’s best to read the host descriptions and reviews from other visitors thoroughly. Additionally, it’s wise to immediately search for an alternative nearby in case uncertainties arise or expectations are bitterly disappointed on-site. And even if the money has already been paid, sometimes it’s worth biting the bullet and moving on. Better to leave immediately than stay and experience a nightmare with open eyes.