Our Solution to Backpacker's Laundry Problems!

During my travels, I’ve happened to meet a lot of fellow young travellers who all have similar ailments: being dirty, occasionally sleeping in random places, having a diet consisting of 85% canned vegetables and tuna, and being broke. What’s also a huge part of this list that you “anchored people” as we call you don’t realize or have to deal with? Laundry. Oh my freakin’ God, I can’t remember the last time I had access to a proper laundry machine or detergent. Especially living out of a car the last few weeks. And we’re in an area where it’s tropical, hot, humid, and sweaty. Shit, we and every article of clothing we have smell bad. Sure, giving things a good rinse in public restrooms/the random houses we’ve been sheparded into during our Era of Ikea Homelessness has been kinda sufficient for our needs, but it’s never enough. Nothing beats a good old-fashioned General Electric cleansing.

So naturally, Lina, Johanna and I had to come up with a solution to this: become nudists! “Hahahahaha, Ashley you’re so cheeky and incorrigible, what WILL you say next?!” No, seriously. We’re WWOOFing at a nudist resort. “WHAT?!” *I’d like to request for someone to give my grandmother CPR at this point in time* The end!

Lolz, kidding. I’m sure you’re dying for an explanation. And photographic evidence. Here it is:

All the dramas that we went through and survived with our car were a true and full-on life experience for us. We learned heaps along the way (about ourselves and of course the mechanical properties and faults of one Toyota Corolla stationwagon, who shall remain unnamed…), and overcame a lot of challenges presented to us, and we’re so proud of that. Plus, it made for an epic story—“Wait…you seriously were allowed to be homeless bums at Ikea?”—and thus made us more interesting people. I mean, I can’t WAIT to tell that story at fancy cocktail parties when I’m a trophy wife! When all is said and done, we’ve essentially become gluttons for life experiences in the last couple of weeks. Our time in Australia, being young, and traveling is short and we want to make the most of it. Sure, we could get a job at a farm, or go travel where all the other backpackers are. But other than getting maybe 6 people to ‘like’ your Facebook photo album entitled “My Lame and Generic Time in Australia on the Beaten Tourist Path,” where millions of other foreign backpackers have the same picture of themselves by the Opera House, what’s unique and exciting about that? NOTHING, that’s what! However, saying that you worked at a nudist resort for a while… that…is something that not your average koala bear has done. Oh, and I’m sure that the Facebook album will get a lot more ‘likes’ (just kidding…sorry, Dad, I know you requested pictures of the girls when I told you about this new adventure, but I have to disappoint you, ya old pervert!).

We arrived here today, and yes, I am writing this blog post wearing nothing but a smile (tehehehehe!). Well, and a towel—I’m not completely there yet. It was a little confronting when we first got here and immediately saw an old dude strutting around in all his glory by cabin next to ours…but we’re starting to get over it. For those of you who haven’t seen photographic evidence of my experience in October stumbling upon a nudist beach in Sydney, where the only demographic present were males aged 55 and up, here ya go:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150548918060886.375636.751390885&type=3

If blushing and giggling at all those old penises from 150 feet away inspired that reaction, whodathunkit that this chick would actually want to be in the center of that?! Our very clothed host Rogin (who picked us up in a Rolls Royce, by the way…awesome!) dropped us off at our cabin to get settled, and afterwards we went up to the reception area to have coffee with a very unclothed Rogin. To my pleasant surprise, my immaturity was able to bury itself deep within my brain and I didn’t have to stifle my giggles at all! What’s more, after having a nice chat with him we (fortunately) quickly realized that he’s not a creep or pervert, and casually talking to 3 incredibly self-aware young women neurotically covering themselves up with towels over coffee was just another day at the office for him. Phweew!

As today is just our warm-up day getting used to the idea, we’re taking it pretty easy and hiding out in our cabin wearing towels. Boobs are everywhere, though, it’s straight up National Geographic up in Cabin 2. A 24/7 double nip-slip, if you will. Tan lines also give the illusion of white bikinis. Even though we lived out of a car together for 2ish weeks and have seen a lot of each other, thiiiiiis is still a little bit of an adjustment. But to our credit, we’ve gotten used to being topless around each other in the last few hours and the giggling at this phase has [almost] stopped. Back when we were at surf camp together, the 3 of us hated wearing wet suits and on Christmas Day we went without, and of course the bathing suits always came up, down, and off wear they needed to be. We dubbed this game “Ass VS. Ocean” or “Boobs VS. Ocean.” The ocean usually won. Now, we are playing “Ass/Boobs VS. Nudist Resort.” You know how in casinos they say “the house always wins”? Well, let’s just say that from now on that in terms of Ass/Boobs VS. Nudist Resort, the house will always win. And while we’re on the subject, to all the male backpackers and employees who ever passed through Waves Surf Camp: I get to see Lina and Johanna naked all the time…my sincerest apologies to all you gentlemen for rubbing that fact in your faces.

Tomorrow starts the real work…and nudity. To head off one of your potential questions: no, when we’re doing our heavy duty work like weed whacking, building, etc, we will not be naked as jay-birds, and can wear as much (or as little) as we like. *Note to self: SUNSCREEN.* According to Rogin, all the WWOOFers who pass through here start off their journey being very modest, shy, and self-conscious—much like we are now—and all leave as full naked converts. Challenge accepted! We’re also starting a photo series each morning in front of our bay window to document and illustrate our progress into nudism. Of course, no photos will be provided. Sorry.

6 months ago, I sat in my room in Ithaca leafing through my WWOOF book to find potential places to work. When I stumbled upon the description of Taylorwood Resort, laughed hysterically with Daisy Chinburg about how hilarious it would be to go work at a nudist resort on my travels (which I NEVER in a million years would have done), and continued my hunt for clothed places to WWOOF. And now, I’m at Taylorwood. Let’s take a moment to reflect on what a massive change I have experienced within myself to get to this point.  So, how long are we staying here? Who knows. So far, everyone seems to be really nice and it’s definitely turning out to be a unique life experience like we were searching for... plus it’s such a relief to not have to worry about my backpack full of dirty laundry for a while! We shall certainly see how this unfolds, though. In the mean time, my Ivy League degree will be weeping as a lonesome and unutilized piece of paper in the corner as I prance around in the buff in the Australian rainforest. YOLO, bitches! And of course as always, NSND—to the fullest extent.

Oh my god, after reading this through for one final edit, I implore you to put on your non-judgement pants in regards to me taking mine off.  Please submit all queries, smart-ass comments, general ‘WTF’s, banana jokes, frantic rants about what the hell I’m doing with my life, speculations of whose carpets match their drapes, stern lectures about applying zinc to our nips, and concerns about my [understandably presumed as decaying] mental faculties/possible hard drug use via email to aeh79@cornell.edu. Please allow 2-4 business days for response, and thank you for your inquiries!