During my recent visit to the all-but-destroyed island of Bali, a local friend convinced me to stay someplace I wouldn’t have chosen on my own: Spartacvs, an all-male, clothing-optional resort. Now, I love naked men as much as the next gay dude with a travel blog. But my sexuality is never among my first considerations when choosing a destination.
Ironically, since Bali’s scenery and culture, which are always among my first considerations when choosing a destination, have been badly mutilated by decades of excessive tourism, Spartacvs became something of a refuge for me.
As lovely as Spartacvs, its staff and my fellow guests were, the experience reminded me why I tend to avoid “gay travel” whenever I can.