25-04-2025
I paid for a hotel that didn't exist. Here's how to avoid getting scammed the same way
It was supposed to be the perfect start to our Mexican getaway: A four-minute walk from the Huatulco airport, we expected to find our accommodation, Casa Nodisponible, and then dive into the pool that had beckoned us invitingly from the ad. That's what the third-party hotel-booking website had promised. That's what we had paid for.
That is not what happened.
Instead, we found ourselves dragging our suitcases down a desolate dirt road, flanked by stray dogs, abandoned buildings and overgrown lots, littered with garbage. With each step, our 'four-minute' walk felt less like a stroll and more like an audition for Survivor: Scam Edition.
Asking for directions proved fruitless. The locals' blank stares were not reassuring. After circling the block, we asked a taxi driver for help. Suddenly, we were surrounded by the entire fleet of Huatulco's cabbies, poring over our GPS co-ordinates, the map and the phone number on our booking confirmation.
They called. No answer. They called again. Still nothing. They exchanged glances that clearly said, 'These poor gringos.'
By nightfall, my overactive imagination, fuelled by too many brutal TV shows, started whispering about cartels and kidnappings. Then, our knight in shining armour (well, a driver in a slightly dented taxi) offered to take us to another
posada
in a nearby town.
The lodging looked like a relic from One Hundred Years of Solitude, abandoned to nature, vines creeping over the bricks. When our driver knocked, I braced myself for a skeletal Catrina to swing open the door and cackle, 'Bienvenidos!'
We begged him to take us back to our original destination. He did. This time we found the location: It was an empty lot. Our hotel, like our trust in online booking platforms, had vanished into thin air.
Mercifully, our helpful driver found us a proper hotel in Huatulco's tourist area. Our vacation was back on track, but our battle with the booking site had just begun.
In bed that night, I bolted upright, awakened by a sneaking suspicion that we had not only been swindled but also made fools of by our impish scammer. I fumbled for my Google Translate app. 'Casa Nodisponible' means 'home not available.' The booking site is advertising and taking money for a property that isn't available!
After my trip, I spent almost two months trying to persuade the platform that they had facilitated a scam. Each attempt went something like this:
Bot: Your booking has been completed. If you have an issue, please call the property.
Me: It doesn't exist.
Bot: We're sorry for your inconvenience. Please call the property directly.
Me: IT DOESN'T EXIST.
Bot: Were you satisfied with your experience?
Me: WORST EXPERIENCE. I WAS SCAMMED. YOU PUT ME IN A DANGEROUS SITUATION.
Eventually, I managed to speak to a human, who returned with the grand solution: He needed to check the details with the property and would get back to me in five days.
IT. DOESN'T. EXIST.
I asked for a supervisor. 'Mark,' I was told, would call me back in 30 minutes. Of course, Mark has yet to ring.
Meanwhile, the listing for Casa Nodisponible remains active. And as it turns out, I'm not the only victim. There's another 'Nodisponible' listing in the same area, with this review: 'Without a hotel, I slept on the street.'
To avoid being scammed on a third-party hotel-booking site as we were, here's what I now recommend to fellow travellers: Read the reviews. Trust your gut. If something feels weird — in my case, the hotel's name — it probably is.
Phone the number on your booking confirmation to ensure it exists. Put the address into Google Maps and see what shows up. If in doubt, the safer bet is to book directly on a hotel's official website.
If you do end up getting scammed and need to dispute the charge, collect evidence (such as photos of the empty site where the advertised property should be), as well as contact details for any locals who can support your claims.
As for my own experience, the online booking site initially insisted they had fulfilled their commitment, and accused my husband and me of being 'no-shows.' In the end, I disputed the charge through my credit card, and my money was reimbursed that way.
So, dear readers, let my misadventure be a warning. Sometimes, the biggest scam on your trip isn't the overpriced airport margarita; sometimes, it's the very platform you trusted to get you there.
Safe travels. And maybe pack a tent.
