How To Travel Like a Nude Pro…

…Without Getting Arrested

De: Kristin Williams

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

I was not always a seasoned naked traveler. I was once just a slightly awkward, mildly sunburned girl from outside Seattle who liked wearing socks with sandals and thought a robe was already pretty daring. Then one day, I discovered there were entire beaches where people just did not bother with clothes and nobody pointed or screamed or sent a neighborhood watch alert. It was like someone had opened the gates of freedom, and also a lot of questionable tan lines.

The first official time I tried to go nude in public on purpose was on a vacation to the Oregon coast. It was not even a nudist beach. I just got really overconfident after two glasses of rosé and Tanya said, Kristin, nobody cares, set them free. Tanya says a lot of things that sound wise until you realize they were fueled by boxed wine. I took my top off for about twelve seconds before a family of four rounded the corner and I swear to you the youngest child just stopped and stared as if I were a cautionary billboard about sun safety. I dove behind a driftwood log so fast I got a splinter in a location we are not going to discuss.

But I was hooked. Not on splinters obviously. On the feeling. That rush when there are no straps digging into your shoulder, when your waistband is not strangling your organs, when you can feel the breeze everywhere. I realized my whole life I had been one elastic band away from a spiritual awakening.

Of course the world is not exactly designed for clothes-optional living. People get weird. Hotels get weird. Airport security already has enough questions. You cannot just show up to the TSA line like, Greetings everyone, my body is my carry-on. But there are ways to do it. There are strategies and unspoken rules and tricks involving fast-drying sarongs and polite eye contact and knowing which countries will fine you and which will hand you a complimentary coconut drink and sunscreen.

I also learned, the hard way, that traveling as a nudist is not actually about being naked all the time. It is about knowing when to be naked, how to be comfortable, how to transition between clothed society and free cheek society, and how to do all of that without ending up in the back of a police cruiser trying to explain your lifestyle choices while the seat vinyl sticks to your thighs.

So let me take you by your hypothetically bare hand and guide you. I have gone to nude hot springs in Iceland where the wind slapped my butt like a disappointed aunt. I have floated topless in the Adriatic while a group of Italian retirees gave me a thumbs up from the shore. I have navigated nudist resorts where there were more rules about washing your hands than about showing your bits. I have even learned how to politely shut down a man named Clive who thought being naked together was some kind of romantic contract. It is not, Clive. Calm down.

This is a journey into confidence, travel hacks, and the art of not panicking when housekeeping walks in. And trust me, they always walk in at the exact wrong moment. I swear they wait outside the door with psychic powers. Donna, my cat, has better social awareness and she once fell asleep in a salad bowl while I had guests over.

Anyway, welcome. Clothes are optional. Humor is required. And sunscreen is non negotiable.