A few years ago, whilst holidaying in Gran Canaria, I was wandering along the long sandy beaches at Playa del Ingles, enjoying the combination of the hot sun and the fresh sea air, when it dawned on me that I was being continually overtaken by hordes of people that weren’t admiring the scenery, but were purposefully striding into the distance.
“Where are all these people going?” I mused, “There doesn’t appear to be anything worth heading towards.”
Curious, I decided to follow them, wondering why so many people would want to flock away from these beautiful surroundings.
After a couple of miles of quick-stepping along the sand, many of the people I was following started to slow down, and drift away from the sea shore towards some sand dunes.
“This doesn’t make any sense” I thought to myself “Why leave that lovely beach back in Playa del Ingles, to come all the way here and to visit some dunes?”
Then I realised that people were taking off their swimwear and not replacing it. Also, there didn’t seem to be any attempt to conceal their own nudity.
It then further dawned on me that the people lying on the sun loungers were also naked…they hadn’t been visible from the sea front. It was obviously a nudist beach.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I walked back to the waters edge. I felt uncomfortable because I was clothed, ok it was just a pair of shorts, but I also didn’t want to appear as if I was some sort of peeping pervert.
I carried on walking, at a much slower pace, taking in the interesting images. By now, I must have entered the heart of the nudist beach area,
because there were naked people everywhere, all shapes and sizes, all ages, all looking quite normal, apart from their nudity.
Nakedness everywhere, in the sea, surrounding the beach bar, playing ball games on the sand, everyone doing exactly as they would on a normal beach, only in the nude.
They must be Weirdo’s, I thought to myself, and carried on walking towards, what I came to know as Maspalomas.
As I left the naturist part of the beach, it seemed almost strange to see people with their swimsuits on. I sort of missed the comparative freedom that I had seen with the naked people earlier.
After a Tapas style lunch, and quite a few pints of Tropical beer to quench my thirst after the long walk, I decided to head back to the apartment at Playa de Ingles, conveniently passing the naturist beach on the way.
Filled with bravado caused by the Spanish beer, I had made my mind up that I too, wanted to experience being naked on a beach.
However, as I got nearer, my stomach tightened. Fingers of panic started to set in, although I didn’t know why. Was it some form of deep rooted insecurity?
I took a deep breath and strode into the nudist area.
As I located an empty lounger, I was grateful that the majority of naked sun worshipers were snoozing in the mid afternoon sun, so there wouldn’t be too many to witness my initial stripping-off.
As removed my clothes, I remembered to my horror, that because I had been swimming and sunbathing earlier with my trunks on. I had “White bits.”
In fact, as I took off my shorts, it looked as though I still had a pair of Very White trunks on, because the sun hadn’t christened that particular area!
I put a towel over the sun-lounger, and feeling awkward at the newness of this novel situation, lay back and tried to relax.
“Excuse me, do you have the time?”
Irritated, I opened my eyes to see a naked bearded guy, sitting on the next lounger along, pointing to his wrist.
We ended up having a long conversation about holidays, cars and football. He introduced me to his wife who had just woken up, and it turned out that it was their first time on a nudist beach too.
As the subject came round to naturism, I suddenly realised that I had been sat chatting to this couple, and had almost forgotten that I was naked, and furthermore, wasn’t really noticing their nudity!
We swum naked in the sea, which was a wonderful experience, but it was strange to see clothed people walking by, giving us a similar look to one that I was probably giving a few hours earlier!
For me that was it.
For the rest of the holiday I did the route march from Playa del ingles to Maspalomas, and spent each day on the nudist beach, deepening my all-over tan and relaxing in the glorious sunshine.
By the end of the holiday, now feeling confident amongst my new-found nudist friends, I looked at passing holiday makers in traditional
beach attire, and thought:..
“What are those weirdo’s doing with their clothes on!”
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