Accommodation is often the first or second thing travelers think about when planning a trip. For me, it’s no different. In fact, I spend a lot of time comparing listings, analyzing what they offer before paying, and most importantly, contacting the hosts to ensure they’ll provide what I need. My experiences at a few accommodation in Lagos have been some of the strangest in my entire travel history, spanning 20 countries.

During my previous four trips to Lagos, I stayed at small budget hotels, which I didn’t book online, and I found the managers to be warm and caring. However, my fifth trip was the scariest yet this 2024, and I feel compelled to share it.

What is the disclaimer of this accommodation in Lagos post?

I am not writing this to condemn all Nigerians. I’ve met some very kind Nigerians in Cameroon and abroad. One of my closest university friends was a Nigerian, and I still have a great relationship with her till date. Over the years, I’ve had a few lovely Nigerian classmates as well. I respect the country and even refer to them as my favorite neighbors.

The stories I’m about to share are just my personal experiences as a storyteller and blogger. I didn’t take any of these situations personally, though I was shocked by the behavior of the hosts.

I still believe there are many amazing, kind Nigerians among the millions. No country is perfect, and I’m sure some people have had bad experiences with Cameroonians too. I hope no Nigerian reader will be offended after reading this post.

On my blog, I aim to provide honest travel advice. While indirectly promoting places, I feel it’s my unpaid duty to be truthful so others know what to expect. Everyone won’t have the same experiences as me, but I’m confident someone could learn one or two things from this post. This is purely for information. Like many, I read several blogs before booking accommodations and have learned a lot from others. That’s the main reason for this blog. I hope you enjoy reading it.

Airbnb One-Bedroom Apartment accommodation in Lagos

For this trip, I booked a place online that was supposed to be barely 10 minutes from the airport. I contacted the host to inform them about my arrival time, and though I couldn’t tell if the host was male or female, they quickly assured me everything would be fine. They provided two contact numbers—one for the gateman and another for a caretaker—which turned out to be completely irrelevant.

As soon as I arrived and cleared immigration, I bought a Nigerian SIM card and called for directions. The gateman couldn’t speak clear English and didn’t even know the directions to the apartment!

That’s when I started smelling trouble.

I called the second number, and while the person welcomed me warmly, when I asked if I could use Uber, they reassured me that I could. What followed was a two-hour struggle to book a ride, with the app repeatedly canceling on me.

After 9 p.m., my patience ran out.

Anyone who has traveled knows how unsettling it can be to wander around a strange country late at night—especially in Nigeria, where caution is often advised.

Desperate, I approached a lady working at the airport for help. By this time, airport taxi drivers had swarmed me, quoting 15,000 naira for a 10-minute trip. Ridiculous! The lady kindly helped me negotiate down to 7,000 naira, saying no one would take me for less.

I have never felt more frustrated at an airport. To make matters worse, she explained that Ubers aren’t allowed to operate within the airport. My host didn’t bother to inform me of this, and neither did the clueless caretaker.

Here’s a piece of advice for anyone coming to Lagos for the first time: be prepared to either pay an expensive airport taxi or arrange for a friend or family member to pick you up.

By 10 p.m., I found myself in a strange taxi, unsure of where I was heading. We called the caretaker again, and he still couldn’t give clear directions. After several wrong turns, we eventually found the place. Not a single apology was offered. First bad impression.

How was the bedroom?

When I finally got to the room, it was the tiniest apartment I had ever seen in my life.

The kitchen was so cramped that you couldn’t move without bumping into something. The host had provided old, dirty-looking pots, two plates, one spoon, and two forks. A microwave and stove took up nearly all the space.

I had to go to the market to buy a cooking spoon and a knife because the host refused to provide them.

Another shocker was the bathroom. It was not only small but had a strange stench that was unbearable. A large geyser and a showerhead were awkwardly positioned right over the toilet, so it was impossible to shower without drenching the entire bathroom. Everything about it looked poorly constructed. By the next day, the room and bathroom were swarming with strange little flies. They didn’t bite but were incredibly irritating.

On the positive side, the bed was enormous—easily the biggest I’d ever slept in. It had unique designs, and oddly enough, the mattress was still covered in plastic. I wondered why they hadn’t removed it, but despite that, it was a very comfortable bed, and I slept deeply and restfully every night.

What is negative about this place?

But let’s get back to the negatives: the Wi-Fi. The listing advertised Wi-Fi, and when I inquired beforehand, the host assured me it was strong. Yet, when I arrived, I couldn’t even use it!

Apparently, the connection was only meant for Netflix.

For several days, they kept switching the modem, and the host was unapologetic throughout the ordeal. It wasn’t until the fourth day of my six-night stay that I managed to connect one device, but even then, it was impossible to get any work done.

Another tip: if you’re coming to Nigeria, buy a SIM card at the airport. Data plans are incredibly cheap. I got 7GB for just 2,000 naira (about $1), and it saved me from further frustration with that terrible Wi-Fi.

Despite everything, I tried to stick it out because I knew canceling would mean waiting forever for a refund.

One day, I washed my shoes and left my shoe rag outside to dry. That evening, after bringing my shoes back inside, I noticed the rag was missing. Apparently, some neighbor had passed by and stolen it! Who steals a rag?!

When I told the host, he casually asked me to send a picture of it—who keeps a picture of a rag? And this was supposed to be a gated property!

What was my impression of this accommodation in Lagos?

On the day I was leaving, the gateman repeatedly asked me to give them a 5-star review. The host also requested the same.

Would you give 5 stars after such an experience?

The water supply was inconsistent, the power cut out intermittently, and the generator from the nearby factory sounded like a roaring engine every day, making it impossible to escape the deafening noise.

I ended up giving an honest review with 3 stars, mainly due to how disrespectful and cunning the host was. He was slow to respond to my concerns and provided a poorly equipped apartment that didn’t match the listing. Afterward, I noticed that the apartment was no longer available on Airbnb.

The cancelled Airbnb accomodation

Oh, where do I even start with this “adventure”?

Picture this: out of pure frustration and a dose of travel weariness, I found myself booking a new Airbnb in Lekki. I’d snagged it for a decent rate—$20 a night for a week—and I’d even confirmed it two days before my previous booking ended. I thought I’d planned everything perfectly.

The hosts, both Nigerian, had already accepted my booking. Great, right?

But then came my big ask. I needed just a bit of flexibility on the check-in time since I had work commitments.

Nothing wild—just a couple of hours earlier.

I messaged them the night before, practically begging, and explained why I needed it. But oh, these two were as rigid as iron bars!

They didn’t care that I had a job to do; they were all about their “rules.” They insisted the earliest I could come was 12 noon, thanks to their “automatic door.” Apparently, they’d have to program the entry time, which sounded way too sci-fi for what was supposed to be a simple room.

After a back-and-forth marathon, I gave in. “Fine, I’ll come at 3 pm like you want,” I said, probably with my eyes rolling as I typed.

But not even 30 minutes later, around 9 pm, I got an email that left me speechless. The hosts had gone behind my back and reported me to Airbnb! They requested a full refund and wanted to cancel my booking. For what? A two-hour check-in adjustment request? I hadn’t broken any rules or caused any trouble—just asked a question!

How did I respond to the situation?

I chatted with Airbnb support immediately, still in shock, and told them my side of the story. The agent was just as floored as I was. We both sat there, bewildered and disappointed. I told him to go ahead with the cancellation—I wasn’t about to deal with an Airbnb experience like this ever again.

But there I was, stranded at midnight in a foreign country, with no options.

The new Airbnb hosts I wrote to, took forever to answer any questions, and I had no place to go.

Thankfully, the support agent was kind enough to give me a $40 coupon, which was sweet, but still—it didn’t fix the whole nightmare I’d been dragged through.

And the host? Not a single apology. In fact, he had the nerve to act like he was doing me a favor by getting my money refunded! I told him straight up that he was ignorant and out of touch. By making such a fuss, he’d only succeeded in showing Airbnb he was heartless and petty.

I told him the refund wouldn’t even come through immediately—it’d take days, and my bank could take even longer to process it. It was a mess, especially if you’re traveling on a budget! I told him to imagine someone who didn’t have extra money, who suddenly had no place to stay. He didn’t care.

What was my final advice?

In the end, I lost nearly $10 because of the bank refund fees, and I was just left shaking my head. I’d met the coldest, most inflexible hosts. I advised him to learn how to work things out with guests, or he’d find himself kicked off the app. He gave me no thanks for my advice—not that I expected any. With his smug, dismissive attitude, I knew he’d just keep treating people poorly.

Now, let me tell you, not all Nigerian hosts are like this—I’ve met somhttps://ymcaoflagos.org/contact-us/e incredibly kind ones. But if you’re heading to Nigeria, don’t just bring the exact amount of money you’ll need for an accommodation in Lagos. Go with a buffer or stay at a nice hotel that cares about its reputation and treats guests decently.

YMCA transcient hostel

Anyway, since I had no other options, I turned to a hostel I’d found on the travel app IOverland. It’s a handy app where travelers share budget-friendly stays, local tips, and easy routes. People had said this place was cheap, though a few reviews mentioned cleanliness issues.

But hey, I figured I’d check it out for myself.

I called several times, trying to secure a room, but got zero response. I should’ve known that was a bad sign.

When I finally showed up, I paid 8,500 Naira for a room, hoping it wouldn’t be too bad.

The room had a leather couch, a chair, and a wooden table that seemed decent for work. The bed, though? Not so comfy. The sheet looked like it hadn’t been washed in ages—truly grim.

I opened the closet, and what did I find? Trash! When I complained, a cleaner removed the trash but didn’t even bother wiping off the dust. I decided that closet wasn’t for me and left it alone.

Thank goodness I travel with two small blankets. I used one to cover the bed and the other to sleep under. Trust me, I wasn’t about to take chances with those sheets!

How were the other facilities?

Now, the amenities. Power and water were like rare Pokémon—only available at certain hours.

The bathroom was the true horror show. The toilet had suspicious stains that I couldn’t ignore, and the bucket they gave for bathing looked so grimy, I didn’t dare touch it.

Then came the smell. At night, the drainage system let off a stench so intense it was like a personal assault. I tried closing the plywood bathroom door, but it didn’t help.

Without power, the fan couldn’t push the stench away. It was suffocating, and I just sat there, wondering why I’d wasted my money on this nightmare.

As if that wasn’t enough, one of the staff members decided to bring the Lagos attitude full force. When I asked for a cleaner bucket for the toilet, he got unbelievably rude. “Typical Lagosian style,” I thought. I couldn’t wait to leave.

The window blinds were coated in dust, and when it rained, water would leak into the room, drenching the bed and the little bedside table. If you need just a single night’s stay, maybe you could grit your teeth and bear it. But more than that? No way.

Airbnb Lekki accomodation in Nigeria

After my previous experience, I decided to try my luck with another Airbnb in Lekki.

Airbnb can be a good option for budget travelers like me, and this one looked affordable at $19 a night. Since I wasn’t entirely sure if reality would match the photos, I decided to book just two nights to test the waters.

The host was a bit timid about giving the full address right away. Only after I asked, she sent it but left out a few details, though she did suggest which public transportation to take. What she didn’t mention was that her estate was a good 15-minute walk from the main road, so I ended up hauling my bags on foot to the building’s entrance.

I kept calling her almost every other minute as I tried to navigate my way through.

Finally, I arrived, and to my surprise, found the keys waiting for me in a plastic bag right beside the door. She mentioned the cleaner had left it there, which felt a bit strange. Earlier, I had asked if she lived there, but she assured me there was another guest, which now seemed a bit confusing.

How was the apartment?

Finally, I settled in, and the apartment was actually comfortable.

The bed was cozy, the power was stable, and the water was clean. She had a simple but welcoming living room with a couple of sofas, a TV, a small dining area, and a well-equipped kitchen.

The whole place smelled fresh, from the living room to the bedroom. But when I walked into the kitchen to make some noodles, I noticed it was packed with groceries, far more than a typical guest would have. I’d stayed in shared apartments before, but I’d never seen this much stuff. It felt odd, but I brushed it off.

After a quick nap, I woke up and decided to head out for a proper meal. I ran into the host in the living room, and we started chatting. It turns out she was the “other guest” she had mentioned. I was surprised but didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

I’d never encountered this in my travels before.

How did the host treat me?

She insisted on taking me out for dinner, and off we went. But shhe chose some high-end restaurants without asking about my budget, but the interesting part was when she started sharing stories about her security concerns. Surprisingly, she seemed a bit overly suspicious, though she tried to laugh it off, telling me about an incident where thieves tricked a security guard into leaving his post.

Her apartment, however, was in a gated community with security guards everywhere, so the comparison didn’t quite add up.

Over dinner, she mentioned how her TV cost a million naira and that she was just being cautious. I could tell she was uneasy, monitoring my every move, and even though she claimed to have a full-time job, she seemed reluctant to leave me alone in the apartment.

We talked about updating her Airbnb listing, and I helped her fill out some host information to make things clearer for future guests. I did my best to reassure her that I wasn’t planning to run off with her TV or anything.

What was strange about this accommodation in Lagos?

Two days went by fast, and although I was exhausted from all the back-and-forth, I asked if I could extend my stay.

She agreed, but I could tell she was still a bit on edge. On Wednesday, she informed me she needed to travel the next day. This was ironic—she didn’t fully trust me but now planned to leave the place in my hands.

Just as I thought she was starting to relax, she mentioned she’d have a friend come stay in her room while she was gone. I felt that would go against our original agreement, but I didn’t argue. I tried reassuring her, even sharing my blog and phone number, hoping it would ease her mind.

The day she left, I was cooking when, unexpectedly, the “cleaner” she mentioned earlier let herself in. She closed the door to the host’s room and seemed to be inspecting things, which left me uneasy. Normally, a host would give guests a heads-up about any third party entering the property. Knowing someone else had keys and might drop by anytime made me feel uneasy.

I was counting down the hours until my checkout.

What happened after I checked out?

On Saturday, I finally packed up and left, relieved to be moving on. I texted her to let her know, and surprisingly, she wrote back with a nice message, thanking me for my kindness and help. She even complimented my honesty.

Now that I was far from her place, I figured it was best to share my honest thoughts. I gently suggested she should trust people a bit more, mentioning that not everyone was out to steal.

It was just some unsolicited advice, but it didn’t go down well.

She wrote me a furious reply, using a different number, filled with the harshest insults I’d ever received! She called me all sorts of names, one of which was an “ugly poor broke idiot.” I was absolutely stunned. She even called me an “evil spirit”—that one really left me speechless. Its irrelevant to mention everything she said but ut was what I should’ve expected.

What other challenges I got trying to book another accommodation in Lagos?

After that experience, I tried contacting several other hosts on Airbnb, hoping for a fresh start. Some replies were strange: they’d tell me their place wasn’t available even though the calendar showed open dates. Others gave me future dates as if I’d be hanging around Lagos, waiting. If the place isn’t available, why not block the dates instead of leaving travelers waiting?

One host even asked for a security deposit of 30,000 naira, which would only be refunded at checkout. It seemed more fitting for a long-term lease, not a short stay, so I didn’t book.

Finally, I found three promising options. I tried booking the first one, but Airbnb blocked it. Thinking it was an error, I tried two more. Same outcome. I reached out to Airbnb customer service, and they informed me that there were concerns about unauthorized third-party accounts for those listings.

For my safety, they recommended looking for other options. It was already 11:30 am, and I had nowhere to go. This trip was turning into quite the adventure, but hopefully, the next place would be better!

My last accommodation in Lagos experience

I finally mustered up the courage to turn to the Booking.com app, hoping to find a decent accommodation in Lagos, where I could just rest my head. By this time, I had booked my return flight so had only a week left to tour Nigeria.

The fruit of my search is, I found a hotel listed for $8 with nice pictures and a few positive reviews, so I quickly booked it.

But when I arrived, the manager immediately told me the price was higher than what I’d seen. I couldn’t believe it—I had confirmed everything on the app! At that point, I was so exhausted and just didn’t have the energy or time to argue.

He insisted on cash payment, which became another hurdle.

When I actually saw the place, I realized it wasn’t quite as lovely as the photos had made it seem. I didn’t have the strength to keep moving around or packing and unpacking, so I decided to stay.

The manager did give me a $1 discount (about 2000 naira) per night, and he also promised stable power through his generator, which was helpful. The toilet was a bit dirty, but the bed was comfortable, and I ended up sleeping well, deciding I’d tolerate things until my flight.

Why did I get a discount?

That discount only came after a strange little adventure, though. Since he wanted only cash, I asked him if he could direct me to a place to exchange money.

He insisted on coming with me, saying they might “overcharge” if they knew I was a foreigner. When we arrived, he asked me not to speak so they wouldn’t detect my accent. I trusted him, but when we left, I realized he’d negotiated a lower exchange rate than I expected, which meant I got 30,000 naira less than I should have.

When I mentioned this, he brushed it off as if it didn’t matter and even insisted it was only a 10,000-naira difference. My face must’ve shown my disappointment, because I finally told him he was being unfair. Then, he offered to give me 10,000 naira back, but I wasn’t really comfortable with that either.

He kept insisting, talking in a way that felt a bit dismissive, and I finally couldn’t hold back anymore. I raised my voice and explained how frustrated I felt. Traveling on a budget, losing 30,000 naira was the equivalent of two nights at his place! After I spoke up, he seemed to understand my point.

He eventually offered me an extra free night and more discounts for the rest of my stay. I decided to stay a bit longer, not wanting to give the impression I was still upset. Mostly, I was just too tired to move again and figured I could make the best of the situation.

My recommendation

Looking for honest insights and real stories about finding accommodation in Lagos? Dive into this post to hear about my unique experiences, and get inspired for your own travels!

For more firsthand stories, tips, and advice from my journeys around the world, be sure to explore my blog—you’ll find plenty of similar posts to help make every trip smoother and more enjoyable.