I was asked to give a presentation at a conference that was due to take place around the middle of June 2003, in Vienna. My flight connections meant that I would have at least a day at either end of the three day event free to do as I pleased. Expecting the weather to be good at that time, and knowing that naturism (or FKK: freikörperkultur as it's called there) was popular in Austria and Germany, I decided to combine a little bit of pleasure with the business that needed to be done, and did a bit of research on the web before I left.
My German having accumulated about twenty years of rust since my O-levels (and even then, the phrase I used most often was "Leider, hab' ich keine Ahnung" - "Excuse me, I have no idea"), many of the sites I found weren't of much use to me. But I managed to work out that most of the indoor spas had FKK nights, but times and regulations varied. There were also some outdoor spas with designated FKK areas, and many sections of the banks of the Danube, which runs right through the centre of the city, were clothing optional. It looked like I'd have plenty of choice: all I needed was good weather.
I arrived at my hotel in mid afternoon. The weather was certainly hot, but the skies were quite cloudy. Nevertheless, when I looked out of window down onto the hotel pool, I saw that every woman, from nine to ninety, was topless. And some of the men, who clearly had just come out of the sauna, and were wearing nothing more than a robe, were less than careful about how they arranged themselves on the sun loungers.
I decided to save the FKK until the next day, and get the touristy stuff done right away. Besides, the forecast was very good. A couple of hours and a few trinkets later, obligations were met, decks were cleared, and a full day of naturism - I hoped - awaited me on the morrow.
Sure enough, the day dawned sunny and bright. From my map in the hotel room, I learnt that the venue for the conference (the Vienna International Centre) was on an island in the middle of the Danube. It also looked like one of the outdoor spas I'd read about was no more than a mile away from the VIC. I could see how long it took me to get to the conference venue, and then stroll along to the spa. That's exactly what I did. No more than fifteen minutes after leaving the VIC, and strolling through some pleasant parkland, I arrived at the entrance to the spa.
It seemed to be a vast place. There must have been a dozen turnstiled entrances to the spa, although as it was mid week, the place was relatively quiet: but I could still hear the sounds of kids playing and splashing in a pool. Looking at a map on an information board, it seemed that there were several hundred chalets of various sizes from telephone kiosk to beach hut, restaurants, showers, swimming pools, tennis and volleyball courts and, joy of joys, off in the far corner, an area of two or three acres clearly marked as FKK in big red letters.
During faltering conversation with the smiling lady at the turnstile, I discovered that there were only two types of admission: "with box" and "without box". A box, it turned out was a locker. I decided I didn't need a box, parted with a few Euros (I can't remember exactly how many, but I do remember thinking it was extremely reasonable. If I'd known then I'd be writing a trip report for Cat, I'd have made notes!)
Once inside, I realised just how large the place was. In the area nearest to the entrance, most of the guests were quite elderly, and they obviously came here pretty much every day, took the same chalet and spoke to the same people. They were all the colour of walnut, and just lazed and chatted in the sun. Moving away from the entrance and towards the pools, the average age began to drop, although as it was a weekday, not all ages were represented. There were quite a few teenagers sunbathing, chatting, playing volleyball, even a few revising. Several mothers and toddlers were splashing around near the pools. Interestingly, not nearly as many of the women were topless as had been by the hotel pool. At first, I couldn't find the FKK area, but I did see a long, high thick hedge running in a straight line between me and the shoreline. I decided to follow it. Sure enough, after a few hundred yards, I came to a wicker gate that was flanked by a sign. The sign had no words, just two diagrams. One was a camera with a big red cross through it, the other was a bikini, also with a big red cross through it. No doubt I was in the right place then!
The gate was unlocked, so I just stepped through. Immediately inside the gate, there were probably a hundred wooden, permanent sun loungers, perhaps ten of which were occupied. I quickly got my kit off, tucked it under my arm and went for a little explore.
Even for a midweek afternoon, there were plenty of people about. I'd guess at around a hundred when I arrived, growing to a hundred and fifty by the time I left at about half past five. The mix of age and gender was pretty much as it was in the textile area. As it was midweek, the upper and lower ends of the age range were perhaps slightly over represented, though towards the end of the afternoon, most of the people who arrived were obviously arriving straight from work.
Most of the naturist area was pleasant grassy meadow. Half of the grass had sun loungers arranged in neat rows, the rest was left to bare grass. The banks of the river were either grassy or shingled and at one point, that formed a small promontory, a beach that looked as if a few tons of sand had been imported a few years ago but which had been left to gently decline since then. In the centre was a collection of small buildings. One was a snack bar with a patio and tables, another was an open air shower block with some lockers built into the walls (ah, the famous "boxes"!) and finally a small wooden sauna hut, sadly not in operation whilst I was there. A masseur had set up a table under the trees just in front of the sauna; and seemed to be doing a reasonable amount of business. Unlike a British naturist club, there wasn't a miniten or volleyball court in sight!
Having got my bearings, found a nice spot by the riverbank, spread my towel and lay down to enjoy a gentle doze. It was absolute bliss to feel the warmth of the sun and the kiss of the breeze all of my body again: it had been a while since I'd been able to indulge myself outdoors. After a while, I found myself indulging in one of my favourite pastimes: people watching. I noticed several interesting things, including a few differences between this spa and British and American naturist spots. The first and most obvious difference was that no one was trolling. Whilst I don't take offence at those who wander up and down, just trying to see what they can see, it can take the gloss off the afternoon, especially if I'm with people who do find it more intrusive. (Perhaps the reason that it's less of a problem for me is that I'm not often the main subject of their attentions!) Another difference was that it was much more of a family and mixed day out than it often is in Britain. In fact, looking back, I can only remember one all male group at the spa, whereas there were two or three all female groups, and countless mixed and family groups. I think that helped the atmosphere a lot.
Another thing I found interesting was the dress code. Now, a dress code in a naturist spa may sound like an oxymoron, but bear (or bare!) with me. One thing I noticed was that males - myself included, when they weren't actually sunbathing or swimming - say walking to the toilet block or snack bar - tended just to get up and go. They were quite happy to be completely nude. Females, on the other hand, tended to wrap a sarong around their waist or pull on a pair of shorts. It didn't matter how transparent the sarong was, or that they were plainly nude and visible when they stood up to dress or when they undressed on their return. They just did. The gender difference fascinated me.
There was another small piece of behaviour that I found curious. There may have been nothing to it at all, but I'll tell you about it all the same. Shortly after I'd lay down on my towel, a couple and toddler arrived and started to set out their stall a few yards from me. They were just chatting and passing the time of day amongst themselves, and it obviously wasn't they first time they'd been to the spa. The man undressed completely even before unpacking his gear. So did the child. The woman, on the other hand, just took off her t-shirt and shorts and stayed in her one piece bathing suit. They settled themselves down and the toddler started to potter about. I assumed that the lady just came to the FKK care because her partner preferred it: she didn't want to go nude, but had no problem if others did. There's nothing wrong with that: it's quite a common situation. I didn't think any more about it. But an hour or so later, when the man and toddler had gone off for a paddle in the river, another couple and toddler arrived. They were obviously friends with the first couple and called out hello as the approached. The woman from the first couple got up to greet them and walked a few yards towards them, planting a kiss on both cheeks of all the newcomers. Her partner and child were still paddling, by this time some distance away. The newcomers started laying the stuff out alongside the first couple's. As soon as the started, before you could say "Heath Robinson", the first lady had whipped off her costume and started helping them. At one point, she even helped the new lady undo her bra, which had somehow got snagged up. So why was the first lady uncomfortable being nude when she first arrived, but thought nothing of getting her kit off when her friends arrived? I could understand it if she arrived alone, but she didn't. Any ideas?
That's about all I can say about my first nude day in Vienna, other than I do remember lying on my back and looking at the skyscrapers in the very near distance and thinking how amazing it was to be so comfortably naked in a capital city. If only we could have the same facilities in Hyde Park! Of yes, I do remember thinking to myself in the middle of my presentation, that here I was, talking to all these suits, and not half a mile away, even more people were lying naked in the sun, doing what I anted to be doing far more than the thing I actually was doing. I wonder if anyone in the audience wondered why I suddenly got an inane grin on my face?
I had considered going back to the spa for my second nude day, but decided to chance my arm and do something different. I fancied a bit of exercise, and learnt about a bike hire shop not too far from my hotel, so I hired a bike for the day and decided to explore the Danube a little further from the centre of town. This was extremely easy to do as cyclists are well catered for in Vienna. All the major roads have cycle lanes, often separated from the main carriageway by a kerb. Cycle paths are well signposted, and DonauInsel (the artificial island between the Old and New Danube) is criss-crossed with cycle paths. These are used by cyclists, joggers, walkers and inline skaters alike. Cars are prohibited on much of the island.
I cycled the length of the island. Near the centre of Vienna, the island is pretty much like a municipal park, with skate board areas, sailing clubs and the like. After five kilometres or so, it turns into a managed wilderness. There are meadows and woods, but not really much else. Towards the southern end of the island, I started to see signs indicating the direction to FKK areas. These were marked by white lines on the cycle path, with "FKK" in big white letters on the inside of the nude area. Theses areas were a few hundred meters long, and occurred every few kilometres or so. Even though the weather was just as good as it had been when I visited the spa, these FKK spots were almost deserted. The only people I saw were fishermen, clearly set up for a long stay, sitting and chatting in their tents. They were all textiles, and were very careful not to infringe on the FKK areas, even by a centimetre.
Rather than retracing my route back to the centre of the city, I decided to cross over to the northern bank on one of the pedestrian bridges: there seemed to be more activity there. There certainly was. It was late morning, and crowds of people were beginning to set up barbeques in one of the textile areas. Once again, there were clearly marked FKK sections a little further up the river. They weren't exactly teeming with people: it was a Friday after all, but again, they were popular without being crowded. Having said that, the nudies were a little more careless than the textiles when it came to spilling out of the bounds of the FKK areas. Once again, I found myself a nice spot, stripped off, and just sat and watched the world go by.
As we were on the banks of a river, the recreational areas were pretty linear, following the course of the Danube. This meant that there was a fair bit of mingling between textiles and nudists: it was impossible to get to one section without walking though another. No one seemed to bat an eyelid. It was each to their own, live and let live. No one averted their eyes, no one stared unduly. The mutual tolerance of each other's lifestyle was a pleasure to behold. The rest of the day passed pretty much without incident. There's little detail I can give about a relaxing day in the sun that wouldn't bore you to tears. However, one small incident stands out as the highlight of the trip, and makes me smile even as I remember it now. It was simply this: a gaggle of children, perhaps ten or fifteen in all, walked past me towards the end of the afternoon. They were of both sexes and all ages between about three and fifteen, with a couple of older teenagers there, obviously to make sure the younger ones didn't get up to mischief. They'd just been to an ice cream vendor, and were laughing and skipping and licking their cones and lollies and basically having just a really nice relaxed day out. The only thing that some would regard as unusual was that they were all completely nude, and completely unconcerned about it. It was a wonderfully uplifting moment.
Well, that's the story of my trip to Vienna. It's a wonderful place, whether you're nude or not. I can't wait to go back.
