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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!

I’ve been regretting for some time now that I haven’t written more about Montenegro. It’s a spectacular place… but so many people are transfixed by Croatia’s undeniable charms that they often forget this little country with the short coastline just south of Dubrovnik. For travelers who are a little more adventurous, though, and who want to hit the next hot Mediterranean destination before everybody else gets there, Montenegro should be at the top of the itinerary. In fact, Lonely Planet has put Montenegro on its Blue List of the world’s best destinations for 2008.

While I work up some good Adriatic Fanatic-style posts exploring the history and culture of this little gem, I thought I’d point the way to some useful websites so you can start exploring on your own. Your first stop should be the best, most recent magazine overview of Montenegro, from Travel & Leisure magazine’s April 2008 issue. Author Charles MacLean surveys the coast, which is where most visitors will want to go, but also heads inland to attractions like the Tara Gorge, Europe’s deepest. His conclusion? Yep, you really do need to go now, before it’s too late.

 (image credit)

The best kitchen-sink site is visit-montenegro.com. It’s a helpful compendium of all kinds of information, with everything from best beaches to railroad schedules.

My tip for a “feast your eyes” website is photo-montenegro.com. If you have no idea what the fuss over Montenegro is about, and somehow the pictures I’ve included in this post don’t appetize you, then peruse the photos at this site and I guarantee you’ll want to go.

(image credit)

There are a couple other places you can surf to for more information, though none of them are quite as worthwhile as the three I’ve just mentioned. The New York Times’ travel guide has a couple articles on Montenegro; the first, “An Adriatic Stretch is Awaiting its Riviera Moment,” is worthwhile reading. Likewise, the Washington Post offers an article which is a little dated, but forms part of a decent series on Balkan destinations. Finally, for a budget travel perspective, here’s a brief blurb I like most of all for its slide show.

So though Montenegro’s stretch of the Adriatic coastline is fairly short–certainly compared to Croatia’s–it has a lot to offer, and if the scene in Dalmatia seems too hopping, just head south to Montenegro’s Bay of Kotor, which should still be quieter… though not for long!

Thanks to Cliff for his contributions!

One thing that I’ll always regret is not being able to see the Adriatic 500 years ago, or even 100 years ago. Until I get my time machine perfected (it’s in pieces in my garage at the moment), the best way to do the time warp again, back to the Adriatic of the past, is by reading old guidebooks to the area. There are a handful of them out there, in a variety of languages. I’ll periodically share some of the highlights from these long-dead travelers’ tales.

You could scarcely imagine a more erudite guide to the eastern Adriatic than F. Hamilton Jackson, who in 1908 published his account of two trips to Croatia. Jackson is listed on the frontispiece of his book as “Vice-President of the Institute of Decorative Designers, Cantor Lecturer, Etc.” He was an impressively knowledgeable art historian, and his guidebook is most useful as a very sophisticated survey of some of the Croatian coast’s artistic and architectural riches, from Roman ruins to Renaissance reliquaries.

He digs into seemingly every last cathedral treasure, delivering his pronouncements on the artistic worth of column capitals, Titian paintings, tympanum carvings, and altarpieces featuring saints’ withered arms and heads. He inventories the floorplans of obscure churches and Roman sites, reporting their dimensions and even the fragmentary Latin inscriptions.

Jackson was also an accomplished artist himself. Many of his sketches of the treasures and places he surveyed are reproduced in the book. They often offer a glimpse at the way a town square or harbor used to look, a hundred some years ago, before being dragged into the 21st century. He includes photographs as well, many of which unfortunately haven’t turned out well in the electronic scan version of the book.

If this sounds boring, well, it might be if you’re not interested in art history. But Jackson also turns his eye to the towns and people he visits. He unfailingly and very valuably describes the local costumes of all the different villagers he encounters–and that’s really a window into the past, to the variety of everyday peasant wear that has long since disappeared. The men of Rovigno (today’s Rovinj), for example, wear “ornamented leather shoes, tight hose of wool, a broad-sleeved white shirt with a frill in front, dark waistcoat, and flat black cap. They have the curious custom of wearing one large earring in the left ear.” These days, Rovinj’s men look just about the same as guys anywhere in Europe.

He also touches on other forms of local culture here and there. He recounts in some detail the method for averting a blood feud–it involves a murderer and his whole famiy asking pardon from the murdered man’s family, offering unborn children as peacemakers, doing the “dance of blood,” and coughing up some silver pieces as well. Best, perhaps, to stay well clear of any blood feuds while you’re in Croatia. Remember, instead, a Dalmatian proverb Jackson cites: “He who sings thinks not of evil.”

Jackson also waxes poetic on occasion, his uppercrust British reserve melting under the power of those magical Adriatic sunsets. Who can’t get carried away by the beauty of this part of the world? Reading his book is like taking a travel course with a very dry, proper, Oxbridge expert where Croatian sun ‘n fun takes a backseat to scholarship. And that’s not such a bad thing.

Jackson’s book is available on Google Books.