For the last four years I have produced the travel TV show “Anthony Bourdain – No Reservations”, ran around the world, ate some funky things and ended up moving from New York City to Berlin, Germany….. I’m a TV Producer, Camera woman, Travel Journalist and now humble foreigner in a new city!
August 11, 2008
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The Accordion
In general, I like my clothes on. Especially, in public. However, as I have come to learn in Germany….there is an art to the well loved sport of communal nudity. For instance, one must choose wisely which patch of grass to display their goods on. In summer, our city parks are filled with what I affectionately call “Penis Pastures”. To a foreigner this is a strange and arresting sight.
ALL kinds of people ‘drop trou’ in Germany. Not just your hot neighbor, but also your grandma. Once I sat in the park while a whole family, nakedly gobbled up a plate of potato salad at the picnic table next to me. These are just the facts that I’ve come slowly and with the help of expensive therapy to accept. I guess nude anonymity is quite a freeing thing, THO be not enchanted dear reader for there is a yet a tale to be told. I have seen the dark side of nudity and lived to tell. What once seemed like a lovely vacation on a remote island….turned into a devilish nightmare with no escape.
Ahh “Hiddensee”, a gorgeous island way up Northeast on the Baltic Sea. Formerly part of East Germany, this getaway seemed like a fairy-tale paradise. Thatch-hut houses, sandy bike paths, quaint bars and restaurants…lots of sun-kissed faces and beach wagons.
As we headed to the Sea the first day, I happily remarked how seemingly “clothed” the beach seemed to be. Here I could finally relax, for I was surrounded by likeminded prudes like myself.
After a brisk bath in the cold as hell, bone-chilling water we headed out to dinner. Stefan looking to meet the locals ordered a round of Schnapps to an older man with an accordion and his blonde, super-tanned wife. A taste of old school drinking with the real people, I thought, as I gulped another shot of Schnapps down. Accordion playing soon led to an all out discussion of U.S. Foreign Policy- the kind I certainly don’t want to be having in a bar far from home never mind in GERMAN. Arguing politics in a foreign language, while shit-faced, and with less than a few verbs and a couple nouns is a TOTALLY idiotic thing to attempt. Let’s just say if the accordion were a speeding train it would have gone….”errrrrrrrrt” and screeched to a halt. The man and his wife abruptly got up and left the rustic bar, muttering some “liberal” words to themselves as they slammed the bar room door. “It’s cool.” I assured Stefan. “We’re on an island, we’ll never see them again!”
Morning, day two: Wind through my hair, pep in my step, we climb the light house stairs to take in a view of the island. Ahhhhhhhh, solitude. As we descend down the narrow ladder, up comes the portly accordion player, blocking a quick exit. Although pleasantries are exchanged we race down the tower and ride our bikes away like bats out of hell. “Sorry”, I keep yelling, but the wind blows my words back. It was bound to happen, I think. There’s only one Lighthouse on a small island. That of course was not any consolation when we arrived that evening at the local theater to see “Treasure Island” and ended up sitting in front of the angry couple. “Well, this isn’t Broadway! How many theaters are there?” But nothing could prepare me for the day ahead.
I have sunken myself into a sand dune and am hidden by the tall grass from the world. I guess I would say I am at last: “Hiddensee.” To find this patch of euphoric seclusion we’ve biked for 45 minutes away from the public beach, pushed our way through fresh tourists, knocked baby carriages over and trudged our way through heavy forest.
The sea beckons me and I get this insane idea….I decide that I too am ready to free myself from the shackles of my modern world….my American roots. I too will thrust away this polka dotted bathing suit for a fresh breeze. I WILL SKINNY DIP. Why not? We are alone. All alone. And maybe this feeling will bring me the courage to go to parks all across Berlin and bare my skin. Maybe…. I am an East German! This madness takes me over and I am running through the sand, and into the water. How beautiful the world seems to me in this moment. Why would one choose to wear clothes in the first place. I envision my new life as a nudist. I could ride my bike nude. I could go to the bakery and buy bread nude. I could even operate heavy machinery NUDE NUDE NUDE! WOW. As I pick up our paper kite and sail it high and proud into the skies of the new world, I realize maybe I should wear something. Nahhhhhh. The wind takes my kite and soars. Soon I am running down the beach with my kite. But the wind is too strong and I try and steer it away from the inevitable dune. The kite plunges toward the ground at lightening speeds. Into the dune it lunges and produces a cry like I have never heard. Up pops the super-tanned blonde woman with an expression of ultimate horror. It appears I have snagged the portly man’s “accordion” with my kite and I will now have to face him NAKED. I have got to get off this island right this second.
