I love to swim – and to swim outdoors in a pool – heaven! So when Robert came home last week and said, “First the good news …” and then told me about the enormous outdoor swimming pool he had found I was thrilled. It was a ten minute walk from our apartment and cost about 3 Euro for the day, had a snack bar and was surrounded by green space. I was packing my bag while I asked him, “And what’s the bad news?” He smiled. “It’s FKK.”
I took this picture in Rovinj, where it was bit too cold yet to explore the beaches. This sign indicates that it’s a nude beach, not clothes optional mind you, but nude. Clothes not allowed. And please, let’s discuss the silhouette. Perky breasts. Flat tummy. Long, slim legs. And oh, yes, female. That’ll make me want to strip my clothes off and play volley ball, uh huh.
But swimming – outdoors; it was awful hot the first ten days we were here – 94 F and humid. So I packed a towel and off we went. Beautiful day, clouds gathering in the sky promising a temperature changing rain storm soon, but not yet. I was a little nervous. I remembered the sign from Rovinj. I thought perhaps I could wear a sarong to cover up my lovely scars, not to mention my hips.
We paid our fee, walked through the turn style and made our way toward a low building that looked as though it housed toilets or lockers. We were mumbling to ourselves trying to figure out where to change, I mean undress and wondering where to do it. In the toilet? Or are there lockers? or do we just stop where we are and drop ’em? The answer is C.
The toilets are …. toilets. That is their only purpose. If you had wanted to remove your clothes in one of them you’d have to be a Chinese acrobat. The pool is dug into a mound that is surrounded by grass. You pick your spot and get rid of those pesky clothes. I draped my towel insouciantly over my shoulder wishing I’d had one of those giant swim towels and sauntered toward the pool. Okay, skittered crab like, toward the pool. I showered off at the shallow end – gritting my teeth and refusing to scream out loud at the cold water but only because no one else was screaming- and got right in. It was grand. The pool is warmish but certainly warm enough once I started doing laps and boy is it fun to swim without bathing suit straps digging into my shoulders.
The bodies at the Luftbad do not look like the ones on that sign. They are round, paunchy, wrinkled, skinny, droopy, scarred, old, young and everything in between. They’re just bodies and really, kind of cute and cartoon like when unclothed. I don’t know why that is. Maybe because they are doing all the things that bodies with clothes on do. Like standing around and talking to each other, giving a three year old a juice box, reading a 1000 page beach book while laying on a lawn chair, lighting a cigarette. Just no clothes. Although one caution did come to mind. Bending to pick up one’s clothes or towel should be done with the knees pressed together, slightly turned to the side with a folding action- rather like a fan – as our grandmother’s taught us. You are likely to reveal a bit more than anyone needs to know if done otherwise.
