Nude And Lewd In The Sun And Fun

Last fall, for example, Christopher Elliott wrote a column on nude vacations and it was one of the most successful Tripso columns of the year. About the same time, I noticed that my travel agency was sending a lot of clients to risqué resorts. Destinations like Hedonism Resorts in Jamaica, two SuperClubs properties where the management encourages skinny-dipping, pole dancing, toga parties, big biceps, baby oil, nude volleyball and other general naughtiness.

Having never been to one of “those” resorts, and purely in the pursuit of investigative journalism (please see me regarding the Brooklyn Bridge if you bought that one), I decided to hop on a plane and take a peek for myself.

I would need company, of course, so I asked my girlfriend, at the time, if she would like to go to Jamaica for a week. I may have neglected to mention the name of the resort. Surprisingly, she was still game when she learned we were headed to Hedonism III, in Runaway Bay, where, we were assured, we would find “that famous uninhibited spirit where just about anything goes.”

What could that mean? Thoughts of bacchanalian orgies and throngs of naked women running everywhere did slip into my mind. But wait, did that mean there would be throngs of naked men running around as well? That gave me pause. But like its sister property, Hedonism II in Negril, Hedonism III is run on a “Super-Inclusive” basis, so the food and the booze would be free. And so would the beaches, the fitness center, the saunas and Jacuzzis, the windsurfing, the water-skiing, the snorkeling and scuba diving, the entertainment — and just about everything else you can think of, including the nude volleyball and, yes, the trapeze. Things were looking up! And I guess I could handle a throng of naked men so long as there was a female throng to offset it.

We were met at the airport and handed a cool cloth and a Red Stripe beer for the short ride to Runaway Bay. The front desk received us graciously — ah, that genuine, warmhearted Jamaican smile! — and let us know we had a wonderful suite on the “Nude Side” of the resort.

Oh, oh. What a prospect! Was I required to be naked? They couldn’t make me, could they? Surely, mine isn’t the kind of nudity they wanted running around for all to see. And yet, I’ve always believed, “When in Rome, … ” But in Jamaica, thank God, it is different. When in Jamaica, it’s do whatever you want.

“No problem, mon!”

Whew, crisis averted. There would be no naked, beached-whale, white males from Annapolis on this trip. So, properly clothed, let me give you the inside scoop on a decidedly different week.

While I unpacked our bags, my girlfriend opened the shutters to take a look at the view. Immediately, she erupted in peals of laughter. Our suite overlooked the nude pool, the nude volleyball game and the body-painting station. Suffice to say, the players were not professional volleyball players. This was going to be interesting.

After the initial shock, we got the lay of the land and decided to explore. As I said, there is no pressure to do anything at all. Indeed, there is just one hard and fast rule at Hedonism: If you are going to linger on the Nude Side of the resort, you will have to be, well — nude. You can pass through (no cameras), but if you are going to stay, you’d better bring sunscreen for all those places where the sun does not usually shine.

Dressed guests can hang out on the “Prude Side” of the resort, or in one of the mixed areas where clothing is optional. We decided we would not be lingering on the Nude Side. In fact, most of our time was spent at a clothing-optional pool since it was uncrowded and close to our room. It also afforded us the modesty we wanted and a fantastic swim-up bar.

Still, nudism was all around, and a certain erotic tension permeated the air of the entire resort. Even when the guests are dressed, provocative clothing was the norm — at breakfast, lunch and dinner. And each night was a theme night: Toga Night, Pimp-and-Ho Night, Pajama Night and so forth.

The food was exactly as the Hedonism brochure describes: wonderful, plentiful and varied. I recommend the jerk-chicken shack on the boardwalk overlooking the sea. The entertainment was excellent and the staff ensured everyone was having fun whether they were smacking a volleyball, soaking in the 50-person nude hot tub, swooshing down the Lucite water slide that snakes its way through the disco (yes, you read that right) or just relaxing in one of the many hammocks swaying in the Jamaican breeze.

It was certainly not your typical Caribbean week. We met plenty of people, including all the members of the band Hoobastank, which was pretty cool as they put on an impromptu concert for a few hundred guests. There were bikers and lawyers, accountants and pharmacists, secretaries and electricians — people from all walks of life. All pretenses had been left at home, and no one looked at you any differently for anything you did or did not do, wore or did not wear. At Hedonism, it seems that your cares and worries float farther away than at any other resort. I can’t put my finger on just why, but they do.

Make no mistake, if you are offended by nudity, this ain’t the place for you. Personally, I am not offended — nor am I a practitioner — and I had a fantastic time at Hedonism. But beware: Some vacation suppliers offer “surprise packages” that do not reveal the name of your resort until you are in Jamaica. If the very idea of nudity offends you, do not select this option. You can usually opt out of getting one of “those” resorts.

My most memorable moments? Two come to mind.

• Every afternoon, the Nude Side invades the Prude Side in a sneak attack that is something like a Chinese fire drill. They run over, climb the four-story Lucite water slide, zip down, splash into the Prude Pool and disappear just as fast back to the Nude Side. It is quite a sight to behold, although I’m not sure I’d like to be anyone but the lead dog climbing the narrow spiral staircase to the top. That line gets pretty tight!

• The second “can’t forget” moment was at the clothing-optional pool. I was lying on my chaise, in my bathing suit, reading Bill Clinton’s memoir when I heard a voice ask, “Is that book any good?” I lowered the book and came face to — well, you can use your imagination — with a naked man standing at the foot of my chaise. My girlfriend was in hysterics just waiting to see how I would handle that hairy situation.

When we left, the feeling of rejuvenation was greater than either of us had ever experienced on a trip before. Again, I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something, well — freeing about these resorts. So, if you are a bit of an adventurer and can laugh at yourself and others around you, Hedo might be the place for you!

Our week ended all too soon and I was back on a US Airways flight to Baltimore. Knowing that real life was just around the corner, I was savoring the memories. I was half reading the final chapters of Bill’s memoir when the flight attendant asked me, “Is that book any good?” I’d learned my lesson! This time, I kept my nose buried and uttered a muffled “Yeah, not bad.”

Off-season rates at Hedonism (not including air transportation) begin at $2,100 per couple for a week. The price includes all meals, activities and alcohol. I recommend the Dirty Banana!

Convert Me!

Every week, one of my kids asks me if math will really help a person in the “real world.” Toeing the line, my answer is always, “Of course.”

For good measure, I tell a story from a previous life, when I had to get a score of 70 percent to pass a Master Electrician licensing exam in Virginia; my employer’s project depended on my passing the exam. It came down to a question of Ohm’s law and, believe it or not, my algebra kicked in: I was able to apply Ohm’s law and I passed the test with (you guessed it) a 70. So, yes, absolutely, math is incredibly useful in real life. But what happens when the math changes?

I’m talking about the metric system and foreign currencies, the bane of many American travelers. We have never gotten the hang of them, and we are paying for it — sometimes literally. I’m pretty sure I overspend every time I travel because I don’t want to look like an idiot as I struggle to convert currency to a number with which I’m familiar. And how many items of clothing have I purchased on vacation because I misjudged the Celsius temperature? Over the years, I have come up with a few quick conversions that will help the math-challenged when they travel abroad.

In most of the world, gasoline and other liquids are sold in liters, not gallons. To get an approximate idea of the gallon price, multiply the liter price by four. It’s not exact but it’s pretty close (“close enough for government work,” as they say in my part of the country).

If you are purchasing fuel, you will probably think this liters-to-gallons calculation is wrong. I assure you, it is correct. Gas costs a fortune outside the United States. American fuel prices have been a bargain forever and still are a bargain today, even though they are approaching $3 a gallon (higher out West). For example, the price of gasoline in Milan is $2.85 per liter. (Yes, I know the price would be in euros, but bear with me; we’ll get to euros in a minute.) Multiplying by four, the cost per gallon works out to be about $11.40. Outrageous! Still, you need fuel, so pay for it, deal with it and move on. But turn off that air conditioner; you’ll get better mileage.

• liters x 4 = gallons

When the front desk calls your room at 6 a.m. with your wake-up call, you tune to the news and hear that it’s 33 degrees Celsius. So, you bundle up. Wrong answer! 33 degrees Celsius is roughly 96 degrees Fahrenheit. I find it much easier to comprehend the difference between 60 F and 72 F than the difference between 19 C and 22 C, though the ranges are roughly the same. I just never got the hang of the metric system. My second-grade teacher told me I’d live to regret it, and she was right.

A simple calculation is to take the Celsius temperature, multiply it by two and add 30 — again, not exact, but it will be close enough to know whether you need the parka or the bikini. Note, however, that the quick calculation does not work at the extremes of the temperature scales, but if you’re traveling to Antarctica or the Sahara desert, you already know what the weather is going to be like.

• Celsius x 2 + 30 = Fahrenheit

They say that money is the root of all evil (and most divorces), and it certainly tends to be a problem for travelers. There are literally hundreds of currencies in this word and there is no universal conversion rule for all those pesos and rupees and bahts. But it is possible to wrap your mind around the euro, the currency of the European Union. Yes, I know the euro fluctuates more often than my son whines about video games, but recently one1 euro has cost about $1.20.

The conversion hint for this euro/dollar exchange is a little tricky. You’ll start with the euro price and you’ll need to remember it. Here you go: To get the dollar value, double the euro price, drop the last digit and then add back the original number. (Strategically placed pause to catch up.) For example, you are looking at a beautiful Louis Vuitton golf-club bag on the Champs-Elysées with a price tag of € 5,300. So, take the 5,300 and double it (10,600), drop the last number — a zero — and you have 1,060; now add back the original euro price, 5,300, for a total of $6,360. (Now I know why I don’t golf — or shop on the Champs-Elysées.) It’s not an exact calculation, but it gets you in the ballpark. Checking in at www.xe.com, a wonderful currency Web site, the exact conversion at press time was $6,414.83, which reflects a higher exchange rate.

• euro price x 2, drop the last number, add back the original euro price = US dollars

There are a few other quick conversions that may help you; they are not quite as accurate but they do help. A kilogram is about two pounds. A kilometer is about half a mile. Again, not entirely accurate, but it does help to know that 100 kilometers is roughly 50 miles — especially when you are on the autobahn with three full bladders in the back seat asking “Are we there yet?”

The answer is, “No!”