
Ignored, trapped, and forced to fight for my safety!
This isn’t just one woman’s story—it’s a warning for every solo female traveler and wake-up call for the travel industry.
This is one of the hardest stories I’ve ever had to share, but it’s necessary—for my safety and for every solo female traveler navigating this world.
In all my five years of traveling, I have never felt as UNSAFE as I did in the South of Sri-Lanka. At first, I didn’t want to write this. My nervous system was in so much duress and stress that I crashed at 6:30 PM and didn’t wake until half past midnight.
I hesitated—would this invite unnecessary attention? Would sharing this invite more distress? But the burden of silence felt suffocating—it was easier to speak than to keep carrying it.
Initially, I shared this as a fleeting story, but the overwhelming response—from fellow travelers and even a Sri Lankan male activist urging, “Expose them, the world needs to know”—made me realize this wasn’t just about me. Another voice called for accountability, questioning how Booking.com and Sri Lanka’s tourism ministry need to be held accountable for allowing dangerous accommodations to operate unchecked.
I came here for a spiritual pilgrimage to Adam’s Peak, and I’ve had kind experiences along the way, from men helping me board my luggage onto the train, my driver Chamara buying me Parippu Vade—lentil fritters made from ground Chana dal, mixed with spices, onions, herbs, and then deep-fried until crispy to try for the first time.
And a host mom preparing me Halapa — a traditional Sri-Lankan delicacy, made from kurakkan (finger millet) flour, coconut and jaggery wrapped in kanda leaves and steamed.
That’s why this post is so difficult—because two truths can exist at once. But awareness must come before healing, and safety must come before tourism. Speaking up isn’t about vilifying a country—it’s about ensuring that no woman finds herself trapped, terrified, and unheard.
What Happened
I was cornered, verbally assaulted, and locked inside by two male managers—while Booking.com was on speakerphone, listening as the situation escalated in real time.
My pulse raced as I realized I was trapped. My breath shallowed while I scanned the space for an exit, my body shifting into survival mode.
His voice grew louder, his tone thick with intimidation. I gripped my phone tighter, knowing my only lifeline was the Booking.com representative on the line, their voice filled with concern but powerless to intervene.
For a moment, my mind froze—then instinct took over. Stay calm. Think fast. Get out.
The Lead-Up
I had booked a luxury villa because I had barely slept the night before—heat pressing against my skin, the whirring of two weak fans failing to cut through the humidity. After restless nights of tossing and turning in suffocating heat, I was desperate for comfort. The new villa promised AC, tranquility, and peace—at least, that’s what was advertised.
By 9:30 PM, I was exhausted but hopeful, packing my bags for what I thought would finally be a restful night.
Even the simplest things—cool air, a quiet space, a good night’s sleep—felt like luxuries after the discomfort of my last stay.
Something in me felt the need to double-check. Wanting to be cautious, I messaged my new accommodation an hour before check-in to confirm my arrival. It was a last-minute booking, and only then did I realize I would be their first-ever review on Booking.com—a detail that suddenly felt more unsettling than reassuring.
But when I arrived, reality shattered that reassurance.
Expectation vs. Reality
My entire family was on the phone with me, making sure I was safe as I stood there waiting all alone with my luggage at 11:10 PM waiting to check in here:





I expected a smooth check-in—a warm welcome, a clean room, a moment to finally breathe. Instead, I found myself standing outside, alone, past 11 PM, bags at my feet, with wild dogs barking, no owner in sight, and an unresponsive phone number on Booking.com.
Sweat clung to my skin as the heat wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket. The barking dogs felt like a warning sign, my calls to the property owner ringing into nothingness. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, my body weak from exhaustion, my stomach twisting from the food that had made me sick. Every passing minute made me feel more abandoned, more invisible.
By 11:30 PM, the new managers —a husband and wife—finally let me in. Their apologies flowed quickly: they had been at a birthday party and ‘didn’t notice the booking.’
I had already tried calling the new number provided by the previous managers listed on Booking.com—yet they had ignored my calls. I was too drained to comment, choosing instead to prioritize rest. Looking back, I chose to handle it with grace, even though a question still burned in my mind:
“How do you just ignore a guest stranded outside in the dark?”
But I decided to let it go, assuming a language barrier might have been part of the miscommunication.
That moment of relief was short-lived.
I stepped into the villa and was immediately hit with the stench of garbage. Dirty linens, thick layers of dust, a leaking fridge, and puddles of water covered the floor. This was not the ‘luxury villa’ advertised. (See video.)
Then came checkout—and the entire atmosphere shifted.
The warmth disappeared from their faces. Their smiles faded. And suddenly, my ordeal—the wait, the filth, the discomfort—no longer mattered.
What mattered to them was money.
My exhaustion turned to disbelief. Were they seriously ignoring the fact that I had waited outside for nearly an hour? That I had checked into a filthy room? That they had left me stranded while they partied?
No toiletries. No welcome drink. Wasn’t this a luxury villa?
Yet here they were, demanding full payment as if none of it had happened.
I’ve been traveling for five years, and in every similar situation, I was not only fully refunded but also compensated for my duress.
I wasn’t even asking for that. I offered 65% of the reservation amount—when, frankly, I should have been compensated.
But the moment I suggested this, the warmth vanished from their faces. Their voices turned cold. At this point, I honestly believed they would honor me as a guest.
In Arabic culture, hospitality is sacred.
إكرام الضيف (Ikrām Al-Dhāyf) teaches us that guests are to be honored, welcomed, and cared for. You don’t let a guest leave off worse from when they first came in.
Yet here I was—offering them money for a night and a half that I should have been compensated for—while they stood there, unmoved.
Of course, I am aware that I’m not in an Arabic country, but this is the hospitality industry—being hospitable is part of the rendered service.
I offered them a hefty amount. They flat-out refused.
Booking.com was on the phone, affirming I was in the right and needed not pay anything.
The Confrontation
At this point, the wife started bombarding my phone despite me already having spoken to her husband and the original manager (a total of three people— which was already heavily overwhelming) about what Booking.com instructed: “Please do not leave the property until we reach them.”
I then hear knocking on my villa door. It was the husband and the old manager who stood there while I had dialled booking.com again
📲 Booking.com: “Ma’am, we haven’t been able to get a hold of them.”
Me: “That’s funny, they’re right here.”
Husband— new manager, confesses:
“Yes, I know Im ignoring their phone calls.”—all while laughing about it nervously.
📲 Booking.com on speakerphone:
“Sir, we’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last two hours, The guest will leave without paying due to the duress and stress caused, along with the footage evidence of the property.”
The nervous laughter vanished.
His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. His posture shifted.
Then, his voice thundered through the villa as he stormed toward me, fury in his eyes.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears. The air in the room suddenly felt thick. His footsteps were heavy, fast. My instincts screamed at me to prepare.
The old manager stepped between us, trying to calm him, but then—
Click.
The door locked.
My stomach dropped. My breath hitched.
I was trapped.
📲 Booking.com representative (panicked):
“Ma’am, ma’am, ARE YOU OKAY?!!”
My chest tightened. My pulse skyrocketed. The silence inside was unnerving.
Me: “No, I’m not okay. The man just locked me in the villa… Hold on, his friend asked him to open the door in Sinhala.”
I turned to the old manager, my voice sharp and unwavering. “Tell him to stay inside. My driver is here—I will put my stuff in the car, feel safe, pay you, and you pay him, and I will leave.”
His expression was unreadable.
Booking.com went offline… “HELLO, HELLO?!!”
No answer.
No witnesses. No one to back me up.
Just me, a locked door, and two men standing between me and the exit.
I forced my breath to steady. Think. Fast.
If I pushed too hard, things could escalate fast.
If I stayed passive, I might never leave.
I needed control. I needed an exit—without making him feel like he’d lost power.
I had two options: escalate or get out.
I chose to leave and just paid the money.
As I walked out, a mix of emotions surged through me—relief, anger, exhaustion. I had won my escape, but why did it have to come at a cost? Why do women still have to fight for basic respect and safety?
LESSON LEARNT
Sometimes, protecting one’s peace means learning when to disengage.
Wisdom teaches you that man can never honor you the way you want them to—because they can only do so at the level they’ve received themselves.
Survival mode finally switched off as I checked into my new place. I took a deep breath, was immediately invited to a welcome drink, and began unpacking—not just my bags, but the trauma in the last couple hours.
But as I processed what had happened, I couldn’t shake what I knew—I wasn’t the only one…
I had already sensed that something was off in the South of Sri Lanka—especially in Weligama, where the energy felt tense, almost aggressive.
Later, I learned from local activists that there is growing tension stemming from frustration over illegal foreign business operations, which continue to grow unchecked.
The way I was treated—the blatant disregard for my safety—didn’t feel like an isolated incident. It felt systemic, rooted in a broken tourism industry where unregulated businesses operate freely, booking platforms fail to vet accommodations, and solo female travelers are left unprotected.
And then, speaking to other female travelers in the 7 days I’ve been in the country, I found out:
I was far from alone!
In just one week, I met several women—all between the ages of 19 and 30s—each carrying their own story of violation, fear, and survival.
• One woman was physically assaulted by a local man in public. She screamed for help—villagers saw what ensued but no one came. She described the moment she felt his grip tighten on her arm, the way she had to fight him off in broad daylight before she finally broke free and ran back to her host family.
• Another was flashed by a man while simply enjoying the beauty of nature. She didn’t have time to process the shock—she had to run.
• A third woman was followed home from a pharmacy, her gut telling her that if she slowed down for even a second, something worse would happen.
• Others were followed home after dinner. They learned to walk fast, stay silent, always look over their shoulders and spent the entire next day in bed morbid from leaving.
And the list goes on…
This wasn’t just bad luck. This was a pattern.
Yet, what’s even more disturbing—nothing is being done to stop it.
The Responsibility of Sri Lankan Tourism & Booking Platforms
Sri Lanka profits from tourism, yet where is the protection for tourists?
Where are the regulations to ensure traveler safety?
Where is the accountability for accommodations that put guests in danger?
I booked this villa through Booking.com, trusting that a global platform would vet its listings, ensure safety standards, and intervene when a traveler is in distress.
Yet, when I was trapped in a villa with two men, being intimidated and locked inside, and even after everything, Booking.com never followed up.
No inquiry. No action. Just silence.
How many women before me have been ignored? How many more after me?
How many more women have to experience this before real safeguards are put in place?
At what point does Sri Lanka’s tourism ministry take responsibility for ensuring that solo female travelers are safe?
The reality is, if tourism industries and booking platforms do not prioritize traveler safety, they are complicit.
And if this is what happens to a solo female traveler brave enough to speak up—how many others have remained silent?
The unfortunate truth is that until real change happens—until platforms like Booking.com enforce safety standards and tourism boards take action—we, as female travelers, must take safety into our own hands.
No woman should have to rely solely on her instincts to survive a trip. We deserve better.
But until that day comes, here are the precautions I’ve learned—ones that have kept me safe, and ones I wish I never had to rely on.
Essential Safety Guide for Solo Female Travelers
🚨 Your safety is non-negotiable. Trust your instincts.
Politeness is NOT an obligation. You owe no one conversation or kindness at the expense of your safety.
1️⃣ Silence is a boundary. Not every “hello” deserves a response. You are not required need to engage.
2️⃣ Firm, neutral energy is your best defense — to deter unwanted attention.
3️⃣ Trust your inner compass. If something feels off, remove yourself immediately. No second-guessing.
4️⃣ Never share your real-time location. That includes where you’re staying, your plans, or where you’re heading next.
5️⃣ Social media stays PRIVATE. Avoid giving out Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, or WhatsApp—even to people who seem nice.
6️⃣ Be unpredictable with your movements. Never take the same route daily or share a routine.
Transportation Rules:
✔ Use trusted ride services—never random taxis or unmarked vehicles.
✔ Drop-off should be near but not directly at your accommodation.
✔ If you’re walking home, be mindful of who’s around you.
Accommodation Safety:
✔ Hotels/hostels with 24/7 staff are safer than secluded Airbnb / booking.com private villas
✔ Always lock your doors and secure valuables.
Emergency Plans Are Non-Negotiable:
✔ Share your live location with a trusted person.
✔ Have local emergency contacts saved in your phone.
✔ If things escalate, make noise—draw attention to yourself.
A wise woman moves with intention—protecting herself, honoring her intuition, and never apologizing for prioritizing her safety.
Have you ever felt unsafe while traveling? How did you handle it?
We’d love to here from our solo-female travellers—share your experiences in the comments or on social media with #SchoolOfIkigai