Ain't no tan lines here: Baring it all in Southern Portugal

During the first week of my trip, I made a bucket list of the things I wanted to accomplish in my six months of travel. Number three on my list (as I look back at my journal to reference...be glad I don't put more of that stuff in my blog) was verbatim: "be happy naked [...] two weeks at a nudist lodge should give you a bangin' tan." Now, sometimes even in the privacy of my own journal that I know no one will ever snoop on (Mom...), I like to tease myself...cuz let's be real, I could have been naked every single day since my birth, and I would never achieve a "bangin' tan." It's genetically impossible (Mom...).

Two weeks in the lovely fishing village
Ferragudo, Portugal. 

Anyway, the bigger point is "be happy naked" — that I can work on. Let's be serious though, we all live in this world and we're all raised to feel a little uncomfortable naked. Not really sure how that happens because I know for damn sure I was one of those modern hippy kids that isn't allowed to smoke weed with the 'rents but is still told she's perfect in every imaginable way and that all of life's possibilities are within my reach — really quite overwhelming now that I think about it #firstworldproblems. Regardless, even those of us who were fortunate enough to be raised knowing we are perfect little imperfections feel uncomfortable with ourselves physically in one way or another. 

Get naked!
Front entrance of La Quinta da Horta

That annoys me. I decided that the best way to feel comfortable naked is to practice (in a non-disease spreading sort of way). Sometime in early April I wrote to the good people at La Quinta da Horta, a nudist lodge in the Algarve of Southern Portugal. They were looking for helpers and I was looking for nudity. Never a more perfect match. I would be joining "Ted and Hun, the Buns" (tagline for literally every e-mail exchange) in mid-July. 

We arranged to have Ted pick me up at the bus station on the night that I arrived. I had no idea what to expect....would I find an unusually tan, naked British man expecting me to strip down for a quick car ride? Would he be the creepy type that owns a nudist lodge but isn't actually a nudist? What did he expect? Was I supposed to be the hippy type? (I wore a purple bandana in my hair just in case...I have a real firm grasp on the definition of "hippy," believe you me....)

I jumped in the car and the very tanned, yet very clothed British Ted began telling me about the Estonian yoga group that would be arriving the next day. Apparently this Estonian group hosts their annual yoga retreat at La Quinta da Horta every year and rents out the entire place. My first thought: what the hell is Estonia? I thought it was a type of yoga. Nope, it's a country. A COUNTRY. Geography champ, right here. 

And we finally found Estonia.

After discovering that Estonia is indeed a country (a very small country...think 1.3 million people, which is apparently exactly the same population as San Diego...WOAH dream big), the next thought was: what are these random 20 Estonians doing (a) in Portugal, (b) participating in yoga, (c) participating in a yoga retreat at a nudist lodge in Portugal. Ted's response, "I swear to you, all Estonians are mad." 

Within five minutes of meeting Ted (who was now confirmed to be a nudist himself), he started on a mini-rant about the Estonians and the fact that he was going to have to cook "vegetarian poppycock for these damn yogis." Apparently, Ted doesn't believe in such "alternative crap." I almost died of happiness. I mean... you're a nudist, bro. How much more "alternative" does it get? I knew we were gonna have a great time; love those snarky Brits, especially the irrational, naked kind.

Nudist pool at La Quinta.

Then, we arrived at the lodge and I was getting all settled in to my own little personal cottage, I asked Ted for the wifi password: "barebums." YES, nudists with a sense of humor. Needless to say, I giggled inappropriately and then proceeded to check my e-mail. 

The next morning I got myself all geared up for my first day of "work." I headed down to the kitchen fully clothed to help Ted prepare the vegetarian breakfast and found him clothed as well and then saw a bunch of Estonians running around also clothed. Welp, glad I didn't get naked....if being communally naked is a little awkward, being the only one naked is very awkward. 

One of the various nude sketches around La Quinta 

Apparently most of the Estonians are not naturists, they are just Eastern European vegetarian yogis. Glad we cleared that one up early on. Occasionally, I looked up from my breakfast nook and would see a few of them running around naked and then heading off to the pool, but for the most part, they remained fairly clothed. Ted, however, did not. Many of our kitchen sessions (I was essentially his sous-chef and dishwasher that first week) consisted of him pointing to various vegetables and things for me to chop, mince, slice, and other various orders that I just always interpreted as "cut however you like," and he would do so completely naked as he fried up one vegetable after the other. It took me a little while to get used to, but our conversations proceeded as normal (fake it till you make it) and I became very well practiced at looking people directly in the eyes when speaking to them. 

A week later, the Estonians had finally moved out and it was time to clean out their rooms in preparation of the arrival of some true naturists. Throughout the whole previous week, naked Ted and I had spent many hours in the kitchen preparing the Estonians' veggie diet in the exact "cleansing" manner requested by their leader. One crucial aspect of their retreat was not only to practice yoga and meditation, but to remain on a cleansing diet (think ginger, beet, and carrot bake). I was thoroughly impressed at their diligence UNTIL the week was up and I went to go clean out their rooms. I have never seen so many empty beer cans in my life...and if you've ever seen Yale during "reading period" (HA) then you know that this was an impressive amount of beer. A little buzz to enhance meditation?  Clearly.

Beach at Lagos, Portugal 15 miles from Ferragudo

Eventually I finished all of the "rubbish runs" and it was high time to get naked. All the cool kids were doin' it...plus, I had spent the majority of my week down at the beach and had worked up some pretty horrendous tan lines that needed tending. So I grabbed a grocery-brand beer out of the fridge (those damn nudists can be pretty stingy people), popped it open, stripped down, and walked out to one of the many loungers for a bit of a naked nap in the sun. After a couple of hours of dozing in and out, Ted walked up to me (also naked) and began discussing the plans for the next day's cleaning schedule. I was so used to seeing him naked at this point that I didn't even really think about the fact that I was naked as well. Needless to say, the transition to full-blown nudity went much more smoothly than I anticipated. Looking back, I wish that someone had taken a picture of one of these full-blown naked conversations between myself and the man who was essentially my boss, but even the most classless of nudists know that it's poor form to snap photos.

A few days later, a new workawayer —Anna— arrived from Italy. Anna is not your typical workawayer. For one thing, she is probably in her late 40s (workawayers tend to be quite young) and she actually has a real job. Why she came to La Quinta to work is beyond me, but it really doesn't matter because she provided some hilarious moments during my short time with her. I'll just share my favorite:

Everything at La Quinta is a little "wild"

Now that I had become accustomed to my daily routine (fix breakfast for the nudists, clean up after the nudists, take out the trash produced by the nudists, stop by lunchtime, get naked myself, and go pretend like I'm capable of tanning), I really did not care that my favorite naked tanning spot was right next to Anna's cottage...it was still my naked spot. Thankfully, she didn't care either as she quickly stripped down herself. One afternoon, however, I was woken up from a tanning/napping session to Anna's broken English: "Lexi! No, no your tit is too red," and before I even knew what was happening, she was spraying me with sunscreen. LITERALLY SPRAYING MY BODY. Oh, Italians. If this would have happened two months ago I would have most likely experienced a life-altering anxiety attack, but what was amazing about this moment —aside from the obvious— was that I had no reaction except for gratitude. I do not want to burn, especially not there. So thanks for lookin' out, Anna.

For all intents and purposes, I think my moment with Anna may have been a breakthrough. I mean, a woman that I would still consider a stranger just sprayed my naked body with sunscreen. May we all have a little nudity in our lives, and hopefully, a little Anna. Thanks to the wild naturists and the encouraging sunshine of Southern Portugal. Mission accomplished and on to the next adventure.