Dad!?! What the Hell are you Doing?

We made some new friends today at lunch during our first day (second visit) at Skinny Dippers Resort on Mallorca. As was the case during our stay last year, the typical introductory visit follows a fairly predictable script; Where else have you done the naturist thing? How did you get into nude recreation? And, if the pre-screening test goes well, the inevitable, “Do your kids know you’re here?”

As it happens, our kids do know we’re at a naturist place. We had a FaceTime session with our 29-year-old daughter today (appropriately undressed for the occasion) and her 27-year-old sister will join us (here at Skinny Dippers) for a few days in the coming week. As I have mentioned before, each of our daughters are naturist-friendly, or more directly, “we will undress for a free vacation.”

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Es Trenc Playa

Turns out that we are the exception to the rule by way more than a country mile! In fact, in our informal survey of other parents we have met at naturist places over the past ten years, there are approximately zero subjects who have told their children, “Yeah, we’re going to lie in the sun naked for two weeks – come join us if you’d like.” Which leads to an amusing story our new friend told us at (naked) lunch today…

Seems he and his wife were visiting a clothing-optional beach in Great Britain when their (now-adult) daughter was about six years old. Having completed a rejuvenating swim, the father came ashore with swim-trunks in hand, surrounded by naked people,  wringing out the seaweed and salt-water and enjoying a brief dose of fresh-air-all-over. To which the daughter replied in horror, [insert charming British accent here,] DAD!?! What the HELL are you doing?

What the hell, indeed!?!

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I find myself more introspective than usual during our world travels, with an unusual amount of time to read, and even a few minutes to catch-up on a few reliable news-feeds by the likes of John Oliver and Seth Meyers. (Sorry friends – if you’re an avid Trump fan, you may want to X out of this page now and get on with your day. Don’t let my little rant here diminish your appreciation for my blog.) Today’s confluence of events, besides this delightful story delivered with passion from my Brexit disdaining comrade, also included time on a floaty in the pool – naked, of course – while reading Bassem Youssef’s Revolution for Dummies, and the discovery of this handy little flow-chart that attempts to explain the terms of engagement for the President of the United States and the first lady of France.

Donald! What the hell are you doing?!?

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Thank you for setting the bar for us, President Trump.

In the case of the Youssef book, he walks his readers through the Arab Spring and the Egyptian revolution, step-by-step, so that westerners might have some insight into the rise of radical Islam, and just how that aligns with the other religious-gone-political campaigns the world over. Today’s lesson was, “Liberal thinking leads to discussion, which leads to democracy, which leads to freedom of thought, which leads to women baring skin (and driving cars!), which leads to… wait for it… mass orgies in the streets in every city and town the world over. You would think these observations to be ridiculous until you realize that Youssef struck such a nerve with his ironic humor that he was forced into exile, and now resides in asylum in the United States of America. (Don’t tell Donald.)

So let’s be clear. I’m one of those professor types that works pretty hard to draw conclusions out of non-sequitur ideas, but I have to say, we live in a bizarre age when the leader [sic] of the free world can essentially make a pass at another diplomat’s wife, when women of the Arab world are banished to a life of physical (fabric) and psychological (everything else!) imprisonment, and a six-year-old child is shocked by the appearance of her father’s penis at the distance of fifty meters on a clothing-optional beach.

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And for that matter, we are only frank with our adult children about our naturist doings because we had the audacity and resource to be naturists with them while they were children, though we had to travel all the way to France to make that seem normal and acceptable for them.

My point exactly? Well really, I just wanted to tell that humorous story from lunch today. But that aside, my desire to create a blog in the first place was to create a place on the internet where social nudity assumes its rightful place in this bizarre and chaotic world in which we live. In America, we even have children’s books that help us teach our children that “this is an elbow, this is a toe, and this is a penis.” If you’re really progressive parents, maybe you have those books in your house that help explain to your children that at a certain age you grow hair on your body and things start to protrude.

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But really? How does a child understand the oppression of women in the Middle-east, let alone the behavior of an American president, if they can’t see a penis or a breast without reeling in horror and disbelief? Especially in this day and age when they are simply a Google search away from the most extraordinary elements of sexual deviance, and god knows what else.

Clearly, my mind is warped in favor of nakedness, along with body acceptance, truthfulness, and a realization that humans have a finite number of body parts that make them human. If there are, indeed, orgies on the street, I don’t think you can ascribe those to the nudists. Truth be told, anecdotal evidence suggests people who are into sexual deviance (orgies, et al…) are quite shy about total nakedness. Too vulnerable. Too real.

“Dad? What the Hell are you Doing?”

“I’m being human, dear one. Go back to playing in the sand.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ile du Levant – New and Improved!

I have written quite a lot about Ile du Levant over the years, since our first visit here roughly ten years ago. That was a weird day, at best. Trying to figure out what this little island community was about, or more specifically, what were the known and unspoken rules regarding nudity in this naturist haven.

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Last year, we brought long time (non-naturist) friends to the island to experience the tranquility and freedom of the clothing optional experience. They bought in 100%, but had a lot of questions, such as, “If this is a nudist island, why are so many people wearing clothes?” “And what’s with the regulations that require clothing in the town square?” My friend was an outsider trying to make sense of it all, without the luxury of having a history of wallowing through the infinite abyss of naturist message boards about erections and pubic hair.

This year, however, there is a noticeable difference. The website for the island has been updated, as well as the corresponding brochure with a map that shows where one can and cannot be naked. And guess what? The new map shows the main square as a naturist friendly area. That’s sort of a big deal, as it seems this has been a point of contention in the village for quite a long time, which has led to numerous demonstrations by the townspeople who have insisted that nudity should be accepted in the center of the naturist village.

Seems so simple – but social nudity never really is.

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All the while, there seems to be a greater tolerance for nudity in the restaurants on the island as well. In fact, I’m pretty sure our beloved little inn, Heliotel, used to require clothing during the evening meal, but alas – no more. “Come as you wish.” And at least half the clients choose to come naked. And that seems to be trending in other establishments on the island as well.

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In fact, the publicity materials now refer to the island as a naturist resort, which it really is not. It’s a town, on an island, where nudity is accepted – or not. But it seems the locals are stepping up the game to make it a destination worth the 30-minute boat ride from the mainland. A small price to pay for a few days of naked nirvana.

Is it still a bit difficult for a foreigner to figure it out? Yes, perhaps. But less so if that person decides to spend a couple nights in a local hotel or gite to experience the village after the day-trippers have gone home on the 5:00 pm ferry. But isn’t that how it works everywhere? People don’t want you to visit as gawking tourists, but instead, as members of the community who actually care about the ideals that hold that community together.

I think this is all good news for this little island off the Cote d’Azur. And also an indication that we’d better make reservations for next year sooner than later, as things are likely to get busy around here.

Good news for naked people everywhere.

 

 

My Parents Took Me to a Naked Place

I’m in France right now, as is my 20-something daughter, but she is not traveling with us at the moment. In fact, she took a beach trip today with several friends and acquaintances – all of whom I know – to just an ordinary beach on the Cote d’Azur. Not long into their stay, off came her bikini top. Hardly necessary on any beach in France, so why not?

Our daughter is what I would call naturist friendly. Would she drive 300 miles to get to a naturist beach (as I would) just to add it to her bucket list? Probably not. But given the choice to swim naked or adorn herself in wet nylon – well, that’s a no-brainer! Nylon and lycra be gone! As one of her naturist-friendly peers so aptly stated, “What’s the big deal? We all know what’s down there!”

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The big deal, at least for Americans, is that we are very much confused about the meaning of nudity, especially when it comes to bringing the kids along. The AANR (American Association for Nude Recreation) will tell you that naturist travel is enjoying a significant upswing, especially when you consider offerings like the Big Nude Boat that packs 1000+ nudies onto a Carnival cruise ship. But in our experience, this marketing niche is directed to either the 30-something “I need a spark in my life” set, or the over 50 empty-nesters, who wouldn’t dream of telling their children that they were going on a nakation.

As I write this from a sweet little hotel on Ile du Levant, it occurs to me that I saw many children today – some clothed, some not – as well as just about every other age demographic over the course of the day, and not a single person looked shocked, disgusted, or otherwise traumatized. Which leads me back to my daughter’s naturist curious friend when she asks me, “So when you took your kids on nakation in France, weren’t you concerned about the inevitable back-to-school essay called, What I did last summer?

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Our good friends have always known about our aversion to wrapping ourselves in fabric, as have many of our siblings. But it is true that we were a bit more cautious when it came to telling the grandparents that the true meaning of summer vacation meant not having to launder your underwear, or anything else for that matter. How could anyone fathom the context of a family naturist resort in the South of France had they not experienced such a thing? Might we be putting our children in harm’s way? Will they need to see a psychologist in 15 years having repressed memories of seeing people with (or without) pubic hair? Or perhaps to most viable concern, will they show up on the internet on some unsavory website?

To be fair, the digital age has not been kind to the naturist agenda, at least not when it comes to the proliferation of unauthorized images captured from devices hidden and unknown, only for the purpose of exploitation. Though having acknowledged that, I have yet to find an unauthorized image of myself or any family member anywhere, which is quite remarkable given my 30+ years as a naturist. Could it happen tomorrow? Of course, but that is a relatively small danger within the broad strokes of cyber-crime.

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But I digress.

What did we/do we tell people when they ask about our holidays in Spain, Greece, and the South of France? We tell them where we went, and about how we rented a house, an apartment, or stayed in a hotel there, conveniently omitting the name of a specific naturist venue. In one case, upon mentioning a specific geographical destination (the Gironde peninsula in France) to a colleague, we both recognized the common denominator. Simply the mention of the town of Montalivet was enough to identify our shared desire for holidays without clothing.

“But what about the grandparents?”asks my young friend. What do you tell them? And what will the children say when you’re not around?

We were quite direct with our children, telling them that out of context, not everyone would understand the inherent value of family naturism, and that while our vacations were not to be thought of as secretive, there are many people with different value systems that simply would not understand, and your grandparents quite likely would fall into that category. But, if you inadvertently let the cat out of the bag, or even the absence of tan lines became a noted issue, then by all means, tell the truth and we’ll take it from there.

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Photo attribution: Bare Oaks Family Naturist Park. See there page on similar topic here.

Interestingly enough, that happened on at least a couple of occasions, but alas, the comments were so lacking in context, that they went unnoticed by the grand-parental units!

“We don’t wear swimsuits in France.”

“Of course you don’t honey. Now let’s get ready to go to the pool.”

The bi-product of all this, however, is that until adulthood, our children never found a level of comfort with nudity at home. France was a place to be naked; home was the place to be modest. And this would carry across, rather mysteriously, from one year to the next. As of this writing, none of them are avid naturists, but any of them will gladly accept the offer of food and housing, (note that clothing is missing) in an exotic Mediterranean or Caribbean destination. Funny how that works.

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As for the grandparents? We eventually fessed up to one side, as grandpa became increasingly internet savvy and wanted to know precisely where we were staying on an upcoming European adventure. Knowing we were just a Google search away from full exposure, I wrote a thoughtful email saying that I was less ashamed about the naturist thing than I was about keeping this from them for so many years. If it was such the right thing to do for our family – and it was – why not just come out and tell the full story?

But social norms are powerful, especially within the family structure. We were fortunate to have more freedom and autonomy than many, but then again, we had the sole responsibility of raising our children to be thoughtful humans with a worldly perspective. A world in which a naked man disabled by polio or a woman recovering from a mastectomy would become a casual topic for dinner conversation while living in a community of mutual acceptance. That is the very best face of naturism, and the environment we have experienced time and again during our travels throughout naturist Europe.

Would we do it differently if we had it to do over? Too many variables to answer that question, and those variables differ a great deal from one family to the next. But our naturist family vacations are among our most prized memories, and I believe our (adult) children would tell you that as well. As stated above, we all know what’s down there! Why we load that with so many taboos remains a mystery to me to this day. Somehow, violence and porn have become commonplace, but lying naked on a beach is still a source of suspicion and contempt.

Grow up America! We know what you’re hiding!

 

 

 

Naked Rules!

On our way northward from the island of Rab yesterday, we decided to deviate by taking the ferry to Krk, where subsequently a bridge would connect us to mainland Croatia. Lunchtime destination? Buncaluka Naturist Resort on the southern tip of Otok Krk. It’s a lovely spot, and it was a lovely day – Father’s Day after all – until I got scolded by a German patron for… ready for this? Being naked. We had taken our cue from a German couple next to us; he was naked, she had a pareo around her waist – we followed suit. But when I dashed down to pay the beach attendant the rental fee for our lounge chairs, a less-than-pleasant restaurant patron ceased conversation to issue me a citation.

“Bitte?” says I.

“WEAR SHORTS!”

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Beach-side bistro at Buncaluka

To be fair, I was naked in the restaurant area, which is exactly 0 meters from the beach area, and I had actually read something about the need to cover up in the bistro, though it’s always very difficult to tell exactly what that means. And what’s more, we had been interacting with our server for at least 45 minutes, who certainly had noticed our weapons were not concealed, yet he did not seem alarmed by us or the similarly attired couple at the next table. Apparently the actual rule here is live and let live.

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Naked surveillance

In each of the French naturist resorts we’ve visited, nude dining is always permitted, though most guests do not exercise the option. Where we’re staying in Valalta, it’s similarly nebulous – put clothes on to eat, unless you’re at a beach bar, or near a beach, or … well I don’t know exactly. Go across the fjord to Koversada to have lunch at the fish restaurant and you’ll find more naked patrons than not. You’re at a naturist resort for God’s sake. Is it such a stretch to be naked?

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Should I dress to walk home?

I suppose there is the argument to be made for hygienic conditions in an area where food is served, (though I find naturists to be more conscientious than most about hygiene, especially compared to the typical beach town crowd) or maybe the other patrons simply don’t want to “see your junk” while eating their grilled squid, but that’s not actually my point.

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Seems clear to me.

Given the relentless rhetoric about naturism as ultimate freedom, the rules and regulations that govern most naturist places are often complicated at least, and downright contradictory at best. I was particularly amused by a sign right outside the restaurant and bar of an Italian naturist resort that said, and I quote, “Naturista? Si Grazie!” But walk three meters beyond that sign and sit at that bar and you get reprimanded by an old Italian woman for indecent exposure.

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Buncaluka – It really is a beautiful spot.

Perhaps I’m sounding overly-sensitive, but we have found time and again that it literally takes the better part of an entire week to learn the explicit and implicit rules of virtually any naturist place we have visited. And it works both ways! My wife was once chastised for wearing a scarf around her midsection at a French naturist resort, despite the fact that she was covering a scar from a recent surgery. “You must be naked in the pool area! Undress or leave!”

So with that, here is a summary of the typical resort rules for European naturism:

  • You must be naked here.
  • You can’t be naked there.
  • No nudity after 8:00 pm
  • No nudity before 8:00 am – even in the shower!
  • No clothes when swimming… unless you’re wearing a swimsuit… or you’re an adolescent… or you’re shy.
  • No display of genitalia, at times and under certain conditions, which may include breasts, (but not man breasts) in places were food is served, unless it’s OK with the server, or you’re drinking a beverage with a sexy name or a pun invoking some absurd double entendre, like White-ass Russian, or Skin and Tonic. (There’s an entirely different post to be written about self-deprecating signage at nudist places, but for another day.)
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Naturism on the Island of Krk

I’ve grown weary from reading the long and winding thread of forum posts regarding the decline of naturism and the aging of the naturist population. But the fact is, if I visit a textile hotel and end up in a state of paranoia wondering if I’m pissing off the locals, I’m not likely to harbor fond memories about my relaxing vacation. For those who live in the eastern United States, it’s something akin to showing up to a summer wedding without a coat and tie, only to realize you’re the only person there who didn’t meet the dress code. Are you the only person smart enough to know how to dress in 90-degree heat, or have you ruined the bride’s most special day in ignorance of the dress-code? We keep saying that nudity is all about acceptability and tolerance — except when it’s not.

Of course, there’s also another post to be written about photography at naturist places, and the fact that I’ve included a few pics in this post, taken before I saw the “camera-slash” sign, but after I had seen several others taking phone-shots of their friends and family on the beach amidst a sea of naked people. Just another tangent that makes the simplicity of nakedness way more complicated than it should be.

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And there you have it!

Don’t worry newbies. It’s not just you. It really is that confusing.

 

 

 

The Best Nude Beach in Europe?

Well, maybe… yeah!

I mean, that’s a pretty high standard when you consider beaches on the Greek Islands, the long stretch of naturist friendly shores on the French Atlantic, and then Spain… Oh Spain! With your beautiful islands and recent legislation that states that any beach is a nude beach, unless it’s not.

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The paved path to the nude beach

But then there’s Croatia. Back when Croatia was part of Yugoslavia, it became the “go to and get naked place” for so many Germans who had grown weary of rainy days in July. And so the tradition continues, not only in several naturist resorts (See Valalta, Koversada, and Solaris) where the staff is required to speak Croatian, GERMAN, and maybe a bit of English, but through the northern regions of Croatia at large. Just tonight, in fact, we had dinner at a restaurant in the charming island village of Rab, and nearly every other person in the place was speaking German.

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Naturist palapa heaven

But alas, that is the bread and butter business of nakedness in this beautiful landscape that winds down the coast of the Adriatic Sea. And to that end, most of the naturist destinations are in the north on the Istrian peninsula. But as it turns out, many of the Dalmatian islands are quite naturist friendly as well.

This is our second visit to Rab, and as it happens from a naturist perspective, this one is turning out quite a lot better than that last. When we were here several years ago, we tried to GPS our way to Kandarola Beach, but found ourselves on a gated road with no way forward.

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Kandarola naturist beach

After that, we made our way out to the Lopar peninsula, allegedly famous for FKK (naturist) beaches, only to find hordes of people in swimsuits sitting beneath the FKK signage. All quite disappointing given the legend that purports that King Edward VIII discovered the joys of “naked in the sea” on the place that is known today as Kandarola Beach; thereby giving birth to the Croatian naturist movement.

Amazingly, or not… it seems there are very few Croatians on the naturist beaches of the Adriatic, but instead, the aforementioned Germans who seem quite happy to change their euros into kuna and raise a tall Weissebeer to the frugal joys of eating and drinking in Croatia.

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Naked on the water taxi. 🙂

As for Europe’s best nude beach, Kandarola is most definitely a contender! Long sandy beach suitable for volleyball – NO. Beautiful little cove with palapas, sun-loungers, and restrooms and a beach-bar nearby? YES! In fact, I suspect you could be naked on pretty much any part of this peninsula, and in the worst case, somebody might give you the “put your pants on” glance, but from all I can tell, naked is a critical component of the economy around here.

In an effort not to repeat the sins of our past, I did a bit of research on getting to Rab’s premier naturist destinations, which led me to believe there would be a boat waiting for us at 9:00 am outside our room at Hotel Istra in the harbor village of Rab. Maybe that happens in July or August, but in June, the only bargain boat goes to a dock just beyond the naturist beach, and thus, we opted for a water taxi instead. At $30 round-trip, we thought it was money well spent. In fact, on the return, I asked the captain if I could wait until the Rab harbor to put my clothes back on. “Not a problem!” Should have asked on the way out.

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Wooded areas around the beach.

As reported on TripAdvisor, the beach is a gem. Like most in Croatia, it is situated on stone slabs, but with palapas and beach loungers it would be difficult to find a better place to enjoy the sun and sea breeze in the altogether. And also as reported on TripAdvisor, we found a nice cross-section of beach goers ranging from families and young couples to the more typical middle-agers and beyond. The nearby bistro overlooking the beach required an effort to be clothed, but quite candidly, I’m not sure anyone would have cared had I chosen to dine naked. It’s just sort of a chill kind of place.

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Life is good!

So it took two visits to Rab Island to find the best nude beach in Europe. Is it really the best? Well, it’s up there in the top ten to be sure. Well worth the trouble to get there even though that requires a trip on a car-ferry and probably a night or two in a local hotel. But it was truly a lovely day in a place where the nudity ratio was 95% or better – more than you can say for most naturist resorts in Europe these days. That, by itself, puts this on our “gotta get back here someday” list. For the Meandering Naturist, that’s a big deal!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Boatload of Naked Germans

So that’s a thing!

When we were here at Valalta ten years go with our teenage children I remember seeing a flyer for the “FKK Fish Picnic.” FKK, of course, is the German nomenclature for naked (Usually naturism, but be careful – sometimes sex clubs!) But at the time, it seemed pricey, and a day floating around the Adriatic – naked – was not getting high marks from our adolescent offspring.

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Swimming at the Fish Picnic

But now, the nest is empty, so I say, “Let’s give this a whirl!”

Seems there must be a few regulars on this excursion as the boat was packed by the time we got there about 15 minutes before departure, mainly with naked Germans. Clearly, I have no issue with naked, and I have many friends who are German, so the only reason this is noteworthy is that there is most certainly a propensity of Germans at the naturist resorts on the Istrian Penisula of Croatia. Simple math when you think about it. A drive to northern Croatia for a German is roughly the same as a drive from San Francisco to Los Angeles, or Washington DC to the Outer Banks. The only difference being that when you make that trek in Europe, you’re pretty much guaranteed to be flanked in nakedness, whether that’s your cup of tea or not.

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A naked friendly island off the shores of Rovinj

This particular excursion was operated by Valalta resort, which meant you could walk to the boat naked, be on the boat naked, and once we arrived at a remote little island past Rovinj, wander the island naked – which we did. The advert boasted Croatian music along the way, which consisted of an accordion player serenading us with stuff you would likely hear in the Paris Metro and scarcely pay attention to, but there was no getting around this guy. From polkas to John Denver, he was in your naked face for much of the journey. Romantic and introspective? No. A really good time as the Germans on the bow got to their third or fourth drink? Absolutely!

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Fish picnic done – Scraps go to the food chain!

The second port of call on our six hour journey was in the sweet town of Vrsar, across the Lim Fjord from Valalta. We know the town well, having stayed several times in Koversada; just a stone’s throw away. The captain told us (explicitly in German, then in an abbreviated version in English) that we were entering the harbor and to get some clothes on. Was hoping it might be naked day in Vrsar; alas, no. But we still made it to our favorite little wine bar at the top of the hill in the shadow of the campanile. About the most fun you can have with your clothes on.

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Who doesn’t love the accordion guy?

Valalta runs several “FKK” excursions each week in the summer, and I’m hoping we’ll take one or two more during our stay here. Sea breeze + no clothing = a very nice state of being on the Adriatic, which makes you wonder why anyone would bother to wrap themselves in wet nylon when the defacto rule is, “No clothes. No worries.” We made a pass each direction past Koversada Naturist Resort on the way to Vrsar, but there were plenty of other islands decorated with naked bodies where the inhabitants waved vigorously when they realized there was a boat of naked humans floating by.

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The Blue Bar on Koversada. No “Cover Charge!” 🙂

Wouldn’t that be something if a boatload of naked humans was not actually a thing?

While there’s still a ways to go, Croatia is most definitely leading the pack on this front.

 

 

Seclude! It most certainly is.

Hey! Wouldn’t it be fun to make our way from Cairns to Brisbane by Train? There must be a naturist place half way in between to break-up an otherwise 24 hour journey. Turns out there are a couple, but the one that caught our attention is called Seclude. Why, might you ask? Well… it’s secluded!

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So secluded, in fact, that the options for getting there are actually quite limited, especially if you don’t have a car. Tony and Yvette set up this beautiful little Garden of Eden on nearly 200 acres nestled in the hills between Proserpine and Airlie Beach. So when I saw the train stopped in Proserpine, I thought, “Great. Get off the train. Rent a car. Drive 20 minutes, and drop our gear!”

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Turns out there’s only one place to rent a car in Proserpine, and that’s at the airport. And essentially, only one time to rent a car at the airport – shortly after the arrival of the afternoon flights. Which coordinates with the train schedule (which doesn’t really run on schedule) not at all! So Tony kindly booked us a car to meet us at the train and drive us up the long dirt road to his idyllic little retreat.

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Turns out Seclude has three self-contained (and stunningly gorgeous) little chalets, (not that little, actually!) and two distinct identities with corresponding websites; one that markets to naturists (which Tony and Yvette are deeply keen on), and the other marketed to people who simply want to get away from it all, but without exercising the option to get naked. The first unit booked sets the rules for the ensuing days. Never will you find naturist and textiles sharing the property at the same time.

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Tony designed each of the three chalets; each ultra modern, beautifully designed, and with verandas overlooking the surrounding mangrove and rain forests. Air conditioned and equipped with an extensive movie selection through Apple TV, you could settle in for a month to enjoy the seclusion. What they do not have, however, is an over-abundance of WI-FI, as service comes through a satellite hook-up with a small monthly allotment and a narrow bandwidth. Despite my attempt to adhere to their urging to limit internet usage, I fear I may have left the legacy of burning up their monthly allocation. In any event, achieving full seclusion was not a challenge.

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As it happened, we booked first for our time period, extending over the New Years Eve week-end, which meant I got to attend my very first Nude Years Eve party. With three couples staying at the resort, and our lovely hosts joining us poolside, only 75% of the crowd made it to the new year. I was there!– and I’m happy to report that it was quiet, but memorable!

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Should you choose to visit, be sure to ask Tony and Yvette about the development of their bucolic little resort, which began with a shed and an outhouse that were both nearly consumed by unrelenting landslides during one of the rainiest winters on record. You would never know that today, which the charming chalets, carefully manicured lawns, and thoughtful layout of the entire grounds that allow each visitor the seclusion they are yearning for. In fact, Tony tells us that’s the biggest difference between their naturist and textile clientele. The naturists seek to socialize with one another. The textiles, once arrived, become all but invisible.

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Fortunately for us, Yvette prepares food hampers and BBQ kits upon demand so one really never needs to leave the property to find food. The portions were generous and the ingredients were fresh and creative.I would have regretted missing a single meal there.

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Would I go back? Absolutely – but maybe spend a week… with a car! Tony and Yvette are wonderful hosts, and deeply passionate about the naturist cause. I would hope that one day they might become a full time naturist establishment, as high quality clothing-optional establishments are hard to come by, in Australia, or anyplace else. Call them up, make the first booking, and drop your gear. You’ll be glad you did!