Navigate / search

Naked. It’s the New Black.

I’m getting pretty excited for our upcoming trip to Spain.

Really excited.

So I was doing a bit of research on the 2 Balearic Islands we’ll be visiting, and it turns out that Formentera, with its stunningly beautiful beaches and crystal clear waters, apparently also has a “strong nude beach culture”.


I’ll admit that I kind of got a little super excited when I read this.

Because here’s the thing.  I may as well just admit it.

(Joel, if you’re reading this, you might want to cover your ears.  Or eyes.  Or whatever.)

I am a naked person.  I mean, I’m not naked right now, but I’m comfortable with nakedness.

(Okay, Joel.  I could hear your “ewwww” all the way across the internet.  But you can’t say I didn’t warn you.)

Joel is my brother, by the way.  He doesn’t like it when I talk about being naked.  Though I can’t imagine why.

But that’s right – I like being naked.

And honestly, what’s not to like?  There’s no confinement, no elastic or buttons digging uncomfortably into your skin, no fabric bunching up in weird places when you’re sitting or trying to crawl into places it most certainly shouldn’t be crawling.  It’s liberating.

Actually, I’m just a seasonal naked person.  I’m not a fan of winter nakedness because then I’m just cold, and that kind of trumps the whole comfort factor of removing irritants that bunch and crawl.

Fortunately for the outside world, my nakedness is confined to the inside of my house.  And there is no naked sitting on furniture in the “public” rooms, where you  might find your own clothes-encumbered self sitting one day if I were to invite you in.  Although, I’m not sure why that would make anyone uncomfortable since I’m pretty sure my naked self is much cleaner than the majority of my clothes, which are exposed to the germs and grime of the outside world, including waiting room chairs and public benches.

Just sayin’.

So I was intrigued, to say the least, that this little vacay might afford me the opportunity to truly fly free, without the fear of strange looks from my neighbors and eventual prosecution.

Sure, it might be a little hard to not stare at people at first.  I’d have to try to maintain a doctor-like attitude of, “It’s just a body – get over it and move on with your life.  Dogs walk around naked all the time and it doesn’t bother them, so why should this bother you?”  You know, that type of thing.  And I think I could do that, unless someone truly phenomenal walks by, like with braided pubic hair or flapjack-sized areolae*.  Not that there’s anything wrong with those things, but I’m just saying – I might stare.

*Yes, I Googled the plural for “areola.”  I can’t be expected to know everything.

But aside from possibly witnessing some strange body phenomena (which could also be viewed as a plus when you really think about it), the nude beach thing just seemed like a fun thing to try.

Think about it, I said to Justin.  We could be naked!  Outside!  Feel the sun in places on our bodies that have never experienced the soothing power of its vitamin D-soaked rays!  Although I’m not sure I could go completely naked… you know… down there.  There’s just something about the idea of sand and various beach creatures and I’m just not sure I’m ready for that kind of complete exposure to nature, you know?  But it might be fun to try it.  Just for a little bit.  Because, you know, we can.  But topless?  Hells, yeah – count me IN!  We’ll just have to make sure to bring lots of sunscreen because I’m pretty sure experiencing sunburned nipples is not on my bucket list.  God, no.  Can you imagine?  Aren’t you excited to be naked in the wild?

“Umm, Katie.”  Justin did not sound enthused.

What?  What could you possibly have against being naked?  Americans are such prudes.  Why can’t we just appreciate the human body for its beauty?  Why do we have to be so uncomfortable and judgy all the time?  I can’t possibly be related to you.  Even if it’s just by law.

“Katie, we will be with my sister. Remember?”


“My sister and her boyfriend.”

Oh.  Yeah.  I suppose that might be weird for you, huh?

“Just a bit.”

Well then, it’s a good thing we’ll have plenty of wine to go with our nonexistent tan lines!

Just kidding.

Sort of.

The Thrill of Discomfort


I have some news.

It bit me again.


The travel bug.

Realistically speaking, I really don’t think it ever stopped biting me.  It’s like a greedy little deer tick, barely noticeable to the naked eye, latching on and digging in and sucking my lifeblood until I can think of little else but the pleasure of meeting new people, the adventure of traversing new roads, the taste of new flavors on my tongue, the thrill of discomfort.


It matters not that I returned from a 2 month stay in Costa Rica a mere 5 months ago.

All that really means is that I’ve been suffering 5 months of withdrawals.

And I can tell you this for sure – after 2 months of high, the comedown can be a bitch.

When I talk like this, most people don’t tend to understand.

But… you have a wonderful husband, they say.  And that, I do.

But… you have a nice home and adorable puppies and a comfortable bed! Yes, I’m incredibly fortunate.

But… why would you want to leave these things for the difficulty of living out of a suitcase?  The pain of getting from one place to the next without the luxury of your own vehicle?  The questionable cleanliness of your pillow?  The struggle of communicating with people who don’t speak your language?

Because, my friends, that’s how I know I’m alive.

Travel is the pinch I give myself when life starts to feel too much like a mundane dream.  It’s a pleasant dream, to be sure.  Comfortable.  But you know how sometimes you get too comfortable and you fall asleep and your entire leg goes numb from lack of circulation – stimulation – and you have to beat on it just to get it to wake back up and feel something again?

It’s like that.

Like I said.  Most people don’t understand.

The good news is that this time, Justin is going with me.  Or maybe I should say I’m going with him.  Because, as is our fashion when we’re taking a “big” trip, we’re visiting someone we know.  It’s one of the best ways to make an otherwise unattainably expensive trip… attainable.  Besides, there’s no better way to experience a locale than to travel with a “local.”

We’re visiting one of Justin’s sisters, Becca, and her boyfriend Bradley, who have been living in Spain for the past 2 years.

That’s right – Spain.

They spend their time teaching English to students in Spanish classrooms and traveling around Europe.  And sometimes Africa.

I know.  It’s a rough life.

And since they’ve decided to move stateside again at the end of the school year to pursue even higher education, Justin and I realized that if we want to visit Spain while knowing someone who lives there, it might be now or never.

We’ve never actually met Bradley.  Becca met him while they were both working on the island of Mallorca in the Mediterranean and it’s all very magical and romantic.  I’m excited because I already know I love Becca and, based on his blog musings and awesome taste in music (just read the linked post comments), I’m pretty sure Bradley and I are going to be friends.

Plus, he’s a huge planner and Justin actually likes to have a schedule (I know – he’s weird), so Becca and I can just go with the flow.  It’s pretty much the perfect situation.

While I’m slightly bummed we won’t have time to see much of mainland Spain or any of Portugal (one of my dream places to see), we will get to experience two completely different and amazing Mediterranean islands, Ibiza and Formentera.  So I can’t complain.

And, based on preliminary Google image searches, on Ibiza we’re going to experience a lot of this:

Image source

And on Formentera a lot of this:

Image source

I.  Can’t.  Wait.