“Make sure to apply sunscreen to your nipples!”
That was the advice I received when I told a lady at my hostel that I was headed to a nude beach on Dubrovnik, Croatia’s Lokrum Island. Armed with that advice and a bottle of 34 SPF sunscreen, I departed.
I’m not going to lie. I’ve always wanted to visit a nude beach. For a number of reasons. Premier among them is the ability to ditch the tan lines. Moreover, a nude beach implies 18 plus. I’m sick of being sandwiched between children flinging sand at one another and screaming.
Once there, I realized that it wasn’t so much a nude beach as a nude cliff. A series of rock faces jutted into the Adriatic Ocean, and nude people were sprawled on them. I chose an unoccupied rock face away from pedestrian traffic and set up camp. After getting situated, I took a look around, and here is what I saw:
I think you would agree that the view on this nude beach was not particularly inspiring.
I didn’t feel quite ready to take the plunge to fall-on nudity, so I played it safe for a while.
At last I decided, what the hell, I didn’t slather sunscreen on my nipples and take the ferry all the way from the mainland for nothing. And I took it off.
Being nude on a nude beach was disconcerting. Ever so often, boatloads of tourists sailed around Lokrum Island, and I could see dozens of people peering up at my naked body. I cringe to imagine how many were checking me out more closely with binoculars!
The other nude beach goers were terrific, however. There was quite the “Live and Let Live” attitude on Lokrum Island. Everyone kept to themselves, and to their separate rock face. No one stared or approached me for conversation. Except one guy, that is.
The “bad apple” was a well-endowed gentleman with red hair. His rock face was below mine, and he kept on checking me out. I was wearing sunglasses and snoozing, but every time I opened my eyes I would catch him looking up at me with an expression of greed.
At one point, he stood up and took a circuitous stroll up to my rock face in order to see my naked body up close. I sat up and caught him in the act, standing behind a bush five feet away. He looked embarrassed, but managed a guilty smile and a wave before he slunk away.
The “bad apple” and boatloads of tourists aside, my opinion on the nude beach was mixed. On one hand, I like the idea of it. Nudity is not necessarily a bad thing. Yet, I herald from a country where nudity is made into a moral issue and, in my opinion, a bigger issue than is warranted.
In fact, America’s view of nudity is skewed. We’ve got people playing video screens where they’re rewarded for shooting an opponent in the head. (Not only does blood splatter when heads explode in one game I saw, but a burst of confetti fills the air and cheering emanates from the speakers,) But, yet we think it’s disgusting for a woman to expose her breasts while nursing her child in public. I don’t understand my fellow Americans, sometimes.
Would I go back to another nude beach? Perhaps. I didn’t love it. I don’t even think I liked it. I never felt like I could get comfortable. But it was OK. And it was nice to ditch the tan lines.