They lie on towels, blankets, and mattresses, without wind screens but under umbrellas. Deep in thought, they stand up to their knees in the water. Some build sandcastles and collect shells. Others play cards, backgammon, volleyball, or badminton. Some are reading. They rub themselves with oils and are damp from the water or bone dry from the sun. The old and middle-aged; young people and children. They nibble on sunflower seeds, slice up watermelon, and drink beer. They don’t look at each other. They lie beyond a rock, behind a bush, or just past the tributary of the river. The other side of some unspoken border.
For now, I just observe them. In order to join them, I have to meet one condition: I must take off my clothes! But I don’t have the nerve.
A Run-in with Nakedness
My tummy’s too big and I’ve got cellulitis and uneven breasts. My swimsuit gives me a sense of security. So I sit on my towel and, from behind the scrawny bushes, I follow the movements of people who don’t bother to suntan their clothes. I lie in wait for the first people to leave the naked zone. I still believe I will get away with writing this article fully clothed.
The first to emerge are two elderly ladies. I pull on my beach tunic and make my way over to them. Poles. Basia and Hanka. Sisters from Warsaw. I’ve hit the jackpot. We go for a beer.
“But how are you supposed to write about it if you don’t know what it’s like?” demands Hania, the older one, more as a statement than a question. “It’s simply an un-journalistic approach. You have to try it, otherwise it won’t be fair.”
“It’s unlike anything else. It’s full-on freedom,” adds Basia. “I’ve been coming regularly to Sozopol in Bulgaria for ten years. I’ve got an apartment here. I like it because it’s understated. It’s mainly Bulgarians that come to our beach. It’s quiet and peaceful. Recently, my sister has started coming with me. Our husbands are traditionalists. They don’t share our passion. They sit in the café and we’re here, the other side of the unspoken border.”
But their experience with nudism didn’t begin on the Black Sea. Hania saw nudists for the first time on the banks of Lake Balaton in Hungary, and Basia in Sweden. Brought up under the rules of communist Poland’s socialist morality, neither of them could get enough of the sight of naked bodies.
“We got
