History of naturism (i.e., nudism) in Croatia

Dubrovnik, History, Istria, Unusual vacation ideas No Comments

Nudity in Croatia has a very long history: some of the very first people there were naked. In fact, if you go far enough back, people actually had to put clothes on (like bear skins and loincloths) before they could take them off. These days, you can’t stop people from taking their clothes off in Croatia. So popular is naturism in this country that on the tours I lead, for example, as soon as we cross the border into Croatia, I make everyone on the bus drop trou.

No, it’s not true. I just had to get the jokes out of my system. Really, naturism is such an easy target, it’s not even fair to make jokes about it. And its devotees have heard them all anyway, I’m sure. Instead, I think we owe them a little respect. That’s why I’m using what seems to be the preferred term, “naturism,” rather than the more descriptive but less politically correct “nudism.”

What is true, though, is that naturism in Croatia is a big deal. The country pioneered commercial naturist resorts back in the 1960s, and today there are 30 official naturist resorts, along with many, many “unofficial” clothing-optional beaches. By one estimate, some 15% of all the tourists who come to Croatia come to get naked. That totals up to around one million naturists visiting Croatia every year. They tend to come from a couple countries in particular, such that there is no better place in the world to survey sunburnt, naked, Germans, Austrians, Dutch, Italians, Slovenians, Czechs, and Hungarians.

Interestingly, among those naturists you will actually find relatively few Croatians. The Croatians, for the most part, like to sunbathe with their clothes on. So how did naturism get to be such a big deal here? I can explain it in two words: hippies and communists (they’re not necessarily the same thing, despite what you might think).

Let’s start with the hippies. And I don’t mean just the long-haired, pot-smoking flower children of the Summer of Love. No, I’m lumping into this term all people who are a bit bohemian, a bit rebellious, who chafe under the strict, conventional morals of bourgeois society. By that definition, we have to go back to the last few decades of the nineteenth century, to the first stirrings of the modern naturist movement. In the heady days of the Victorian Era, with its teeming cities and smoke-belching factories, there arose a conviction among certain free-thinkers that humans, to stay healthy, had to get back to nature. The idea was to expose yourself to the natural elements, to fresh air and sunlight–and ideally to expose all of yourself.

The idea of being naked in public thus grew out of associated movements espousing lifestyle reform such as vegetarianism, abstinence from tobacco and alcohol, and naturopathy. Such movements had their adherents throughout northwestern Europe (principally in England, France, and Germany), but it was among those peace-loving Germans that letting it all hang out outdoors really took off. Two men, Heinrich Pudor and Richard Ungewitter, became famous for advocating naturism, and it wasn’t long before experimental private clubs began opening in Germany (as well as France and England) where members could practice what Pudor and Ungewitter preached. These clubs combined the whole raft of typical lifestyle reform ideas: nudity, abstinence, vegetarianism, and mandatory calisthenics.

 English beach, Rab (image)

Fast forward now to August, 1936, and the island of Rab. In that month, King Edward VIII of England and his American mistress, Wallis Simpson, went skinny dipping in the bay of Kandarola. In this case, the emperor was well aware he was wearing no clothes, and his nakedness stands as a landmark in Croatian naturism–it’s also the reason why the bay where he swam is sometimes still referred to as “English beach” today. Edward, though, might not have taken the plunge had Rab not already enjoyed some renown as a naturist destination. At least as far back as 1907 tourists had been coming to the island to practice this lifestyle, taking advantage of the benign Croatian climate, which needless to say requires rather less insulation than those of England or Germany.

In the 1960s, then, tourism began to skyrocket in Yugoslavia. Here is obviously where the communists come in. When the Yugoslav authorities realized the economic bonanza they could reap by promoting Croatia’s sun and fun to other Europeans, the floodgates were opened. By 1965, restrictions on the movement of foreigners in Yugoslavia were removed, making travel much easier. Likewise, in the same year the highway along the Adriatic was completed, making the whole coast from Istria on down to Montenegro much more accessible.

What may seem surprising is that the communist authorities identified quite early on Croatia’s appeal to the naturist niche market, and it was already in 1961 that Europe’s first naturist resort opened in Istria near the town of Vrsar. Koversada, as the resort is called, has since also become one of Europe’s largest naturist resorts, reportedly able to accommodate some 6000 guests. Set on a private island with a bridge to the mainland, Koversada offers five kilometers of beaches, all kinds of sporting facilities, beauty pageants, and, well, acres of naked people. The legendary lothario Casanova, who once took a swim here in his birthday suit (or so the story goes), would hardly recognize the place.

 Koversada (image)

The communists built up a string of other resorts along the coast as well. They wouldn’t have built them, though, if there hadn’t been a market. Here the hippies enter the picture again. By the late 1960s, Europe and North America were seeing another cultural explosion of interest in lifestyle reform. Peace, love, the environment–”turn on, tune in, drop out,” and all the familiar trappings of flower power inspired another back-to-naturism movement much like the one that had flared in the late nineteenth century. As a result, there were many more people than in the infamously staid 1950s who wanted to get naked in public.

As the number of tourists to the Croatian coast grew, and as among that number there were ever more people wanting to sunbathe in the all together, Yugoslav authorities became quite accommodating. Besides building the naturist resorts, they also increasingly designated certain beaches as clothing optional. When locals took fright at the growing expanse of naked Germans, the authorities often would actually take the side of the naturist tourists. One example is with the naturist beach on the island of Lokrum, just off Dubrovnik. By the end of the 1960s, one beach on the island had gained renown as the best naturist haven near Dubrovnik. Over the course of a summer, the beach would attract thousands of people. But many of Dubrovnik’s citizens weren’t happy about it. They wanted the authorities to crack down on the nudity–but, as it happened, the authorities in 1970 actually made the beach officially naturist!

 Lokrum island off Dubrovnik (image)

Since that time, though, most Croatians have accepted their country’s reputation as a mecca for naturism. There are truly few places more friendly to nude tourists than Croatia. In fact, the country’s main tourism website has a prominent link for naturism. The infrastructure and resources for naturists are both well developed. The best single site is www.cronatur.com, which has tons of useful information, including a blurb on history which was my main source for this post. You can also check out this other list of Croatia’s best nude beaches. Just remember that in Croatia, most clothing-optional beaches are designated by the German term “FKK,” which stands for Frei Koerper Kultur, or “free body culture,” the term invented by those original naturist pioneers in their enthusiasm for lifestyle reform.

So that’s how hippies and communists made naturism what it is today in Croatia. And in case you’re wondering… no, getting sunburned in sensitive places isn’t really my thing. But if you’re into it, then have fun. Just don’t forget your sunscreen!

Dubrovnik desserts: rozata and paradizet

Dubrovnik, Food No Comments

First, a word of warning: if you’re in Dalmatia in the summertime, and you expect to be parading around the beaches wearing not very much (or nothing at all!), then stay away from these two. This much sugar and cream is going to make your thong uncomfortable–particularly for everyone who’s looking at you.

But if that warning doesn’t deter you, then oh my, tuck in to one of these dee-licious desserts! You can find them all along the Dalmatian coast, but they’re most famous in Dubrovnik, particularly rozata. Rozata is like a creme caramel or flan; everybody and her uncle has a special recipe, but usually it’s flavored with vanilla, rum, and lemon. Paradizet is a little less common; some have compared it to a Vienna cream cake.

If you’re in Dubrovnik, I absolutely have a recommendation on a great place to sample these two delicacies. It’s the Gradska kavarna, the main city cafe in the old town. When the afternoon sun gets a little intense, pop into the kavarna for a coffee and some rozata, just like Dubrovnik’s intellectuals have been doing for a hundred years. But remember that you’re probably not allowed in there in your thong.

There are quite a few recipes out there on the internet for rozata. This one looked the best to me:

rozata.jpg (image credit)

Rozata

Prep Time: 15 Minutes
Cook Time: 50 Minutes
Cooling time: 120 Minutes
Ready in: 3 Hours 5 Minutes
Serving: 6 people

Ingredients:
1 cup white sugar
1/4 cup water
6 egg yolks
1 liter of milk

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
2. In a heavy saucepan over medium heat, cook sugar with water, stirring, until melted and light brown. Pour into a pan or cake mold, tilting to coat the bottom of the pan. Set aside.
3. In a bowl, gently whisk together evaporated milk, condensed milk, and egg yolks and mix.
4. Line a roasting pan with a damp kitchen towel. Place baking dish on towel, inside roasting pan, and place roasting pan on oven rack. Fill roasting pan with water to reach halfway up the sides of the baking dish.
5. Bake in preheated oven 45 to 50 minutes, until set. Let cool completely.
6. To unfold, run a knife around the edges of the pan and invert the rozata onto a rimmed serving platter. Refrigerate 2 hours and pour with Caramel Sauce before serving.

Caramel Sauce

Ingredients:
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup water
1 cup heavy cream
Directions:
1. In a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the sugar and water and bring the mixture to a boil, stirring often. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is a deep caramel color and has the consistency of thin syrup, 10 to 15 minutes.
2. Remove from the heat. Stir in the cream, return the saucepan to the high heat, and boil the sauce until it regains the consistency of thick syrup, about 2 minutes.
3. Cool it.

Source: http://www.dubrovnik-online.com/english/restaurants.php

There’s only one recipe out there I found for paradizet, and it’s not going to be quite as good as you can get in Dubrovnik, but give it a shot:

PARADIZET
Yield: 1 Recipe

4 Egg yolks
4 Egg whites
5 ts Sugar
1/2 qt Milk
5 lg Cookies (about)
Beat egg yolks with 4 tablespoons sugar. Beat the egg whites. Boil
the milk with 1 tablespoon sugar. When the milk is boiling, add the
beaten egg to the boiling milk, spoon by spoon, letting it boil for a
couple of minutes and removing it, spoon by spoon and drop into a
bowl in which you previously place five crunched cookies. Continue
this until there are no more egg whites left. Then pour the remaining
milk over the beaten egg yolks, stirring over a hot plate until it
stiffens (like pudding). When it is thick, pourit over the egg whites
and cookies. Cool in refrigerator and serve cold.
Source: Mary Usmiani “Our Favorite Recipes,” St. Anthony Croatian
Catholic Church

paradizet.jpg

Paradizet (image credit)

Weird relics: magical dead body parts

Dubrovnik, History, Myths and legends, Rab No Comments

Back in the middle ages, a sure cure for all your ills was a relic. Some bit of a saint or other holy figure could fix just about anything, whether blindness or infidel invasion. The veneration of relics is a practice that is actually a holdover from pre-Christian Europe, when all sorts of inanimate objects were assumed to have magical powers.

These days, in Europe almost any Catholic church worth its transubstantiated wine preserves for its miraculous powers some interesting body part of someone long dead. Among my favorites anywhere is the right hand of St. Stephen, the king who Christianized Hungary. Found appropriately enough in St. Stephen’s Basilica in Budapest, this “Holy Right,” as the Hungarians call it, actually looks more like the “holy beef jerky,” which is what I call it.

The Croatian coast is no slouch when it comes to relics, either. Many towns often have very costly, ornate reliquaries to hold those old desiccated saint appendages. For instance, St. Christopher is the patron saint of Rab, and the cathedral there houses his head. What’s left of it, anyway. One legend claims that back before he converted to Christianity, Christopher had the head of a dog. While there’s sadly no evidence of that today, if you go to Rab you can see the skull with the magnificent crown given by Queen Elizabeth of Hungary back in the 14th century.

Rab's reliquary containing the head of St. Christopher (image credit)

In the days when Dubrovnik was the independent republic of Ragusa, the republic’s flag used to feature the image of St. Blaise, its patron saint. In the early days of the Church, Blaise had been a bishop in Asia Minor. Then one day in the 10th century a pilgrim came to Ragusa from Armenia… and what did he happen to be traveling with but St. Blaise’s head! Blaise had appeared to this pilgrim in a dream, so the story goes, and told him to warn the Ragusans that Venice was about to attack. The pious Ragusans heeded the warning and managed to save their city. In gratitude for this miraculous intervention they made Blaise the patron saint, and you can still see his head, as well as his hand and foot, in the treasury of Dubrovnik’s cathedral.

The church of St. Blaise in Dubrovnik (image credit)

Clearly these saints were pretty well-traveled, even after their death. Another good story concerns St. Giovanni Orsini of Trogir. The villain, again, is those dastardly Venetians. When the Venetians sacked Trogir in 1171, they opened the sarcophagus containing Orsini’s bones, hoping to find some treasure. The grave robbers tried to remove a ring from the saint’s body, but it refused to come off. So they just took the whole arm, and brought it back to a church in Venice. It didn’t stay there, however. After waiting a discreet three years, the arm rose up and flew through the air back to Trogir, where one morning it was found resting on the saint’s shrine.

Those, admittedly, are all relics from holy figures you may never have heard of. For my money, then, the most valuable and most famous relic of all Dalmatia belonged to Zadar, which kept a wondrous vial of–get this–the Virgin Mary’s milk.

Any other weird relics you’ve seen on your travels? And did they work any miracles for you? Drop us a line in the comments.

View blog top tags