How to survive in a nude beach
May 4, 2003 | 12:00am
Sun, sand, sea... and sex. That about sums up Mykonos, that little island somewhere in the Cyclades Islands of Alexander the Great’s beloved Greece. What Mykonos lacks in history (it has Neolithic sites and four museums though) it effortlessly makes up for being one of the two great party islands in the Mediterranean, the other being Ibiza. For most people, this isle was merely a neighbor of the island of Delos, beloved of Apollo and site of the great slave market where, during the Hellenistic era, as many as 10,000 slaves could change hands on a single day.
These days, however, Mykonos is fast becoming a home to another kind of slave – that of sensuality and sexuality. All day long, thousands of young tourists go to its many sparkling white beaches to get a tan and then hie off their golden, glistening bodies to cruise the island’s nightspots with hopes of getting laid. Obviously, majority of them are successful since it is, after all, the party place to be.
The center of all the action is the harbor town and island capital, Hora, whose main characteristic is a skein of tangled streets in which even an individual with the best sense of direction can get lost. Hora was deliberately planned to confuse any would-be-pirates but, for the modern traveler, the happy result is a tourist-pleasing town with a frenetic nightlife, lots of restaurants and bars, and great tourist shopping. The large number of visitors to Mykonos no doubt makes it more expensive than other Greek islands but, what the heck, it is loads of fun.
Despite its hedonistic reputation, Mykonos does have facilities for families. My family and I stayed in one of them – Platis Yialos – where our resort, Lady Anna, was located. I found out that the only distinction between a family beach and a regular beach was nudity; the former did not allow it while the latter did. This distinction did not, however, prevent a Greek transvestite from proudly baring her newly-acquired breasts one day while my sons and I were sunbathing in our "family" beach resort. The crowd immediately gave her a very wide berth, perhaps a mile in diameter!
This brings me to my next observation. Anyone who has ever gone to Greece to enjoy its beaches, especially those of Mykonos, will invariably be confronted by the choice: Do I go to a nude beach or not? I can say only one thing to those who are tempted: take heart. If you think that you may not measure up (literally and figuratively) in a nude beach, I can assure you of one thing after hours of keen observation: 90 percent of a nude beach’s population will be in just as bad a shape as you are, or worse. In fact the most enthusiastic nudists are those who should be banned from them in the first place.
When I was living in New York in the early Seventies, I happened to watch a short film on what was then euphemistically called "naturalists" or people who chose to live their lives in the nude all year round. I no longer recall where, or even how, I came to see the film but its intent was to attract people to the naturalist lifestyle. One way it naively thought it could attract people was to make them witness the most grotesque volleyball game I have ever seen.
The game was between a male player and a female player. The producers of the film obviously were firm believers in cinema verite because the players they chose were as far from a Baywatch hunk and babe as you could possibly imagine. The female looked like Mary’s roommate in the movie There’s Something About Mary. You know – she of the Phyllis Diller fright wig, overbaked skin, technicolor Chapstick lips and prune breasts. The male, on the other hand, was as old as Methuselah and was as wrinkled as a sheet that had been crumpled and forgotten in the laundry basket for at least a year. She would enthusiastically hit the ball with prune breasts flailing in the wind while he would jump around, flapping miles of empty scrotum with two pathetic testicles desperately hanging on. This volleyball game was so ghastly and hilarious at the same time that I was rolling on the aisles and praying for the torture to stop.
Well, that’s what most people in a nude beach look like.
If you do finally gather up the gumption to go to a nude beach, here are some pointers to remember, at least from the male perspective:
• Remember that Westerners tend to be pendulous whereas most Asians carry what look like those shrunken Baguio longanisas, especially when first retrieved from their underwear. So before venturing out into the beach, remember to slap it around a little to give it a rouse and admonish it to "Wake up, pal. You’ve got competition."
• A nude beach is not about sex. It is anything but. The merest hint of sexual arousal will get you laughed out of the reservation.
• Filipinos are accustomed to the 80 plus degree waters of the Pacific. The Mediterranean, at 70 degrees or lower, is freezing for the uninitiated so even dipping your toes in the water can zip you right back to the Baguio longanisa stage and all your efforts will come to naught. So stay out of the water!
• You cannot enter any restaurant along the beach totally nude. You have to put your clothes on, otherwise you will not be served. I am almost positive that, sometime in the past, people were allowed to eat in the nude but one overly enthusiastic couple engaged in a public display of grunting, boisterous, sweaty sex right after their meal. The result: Absolutely no nudity in restaurants.
Once you have mastered these pointers, you can now venture out into the beach and engage in the sensuous pleasure of feeling the warm sun and the cool breeze going through every square inch of your body, marvel at the effrontery of most people, salivate at some of the huge knockers on display at the beach, and add to the miles of empty scrotum flapping in the wind. Just like that Methuselah I once saw playing volleyball so very long ago.
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