I’m Kayla, and yes, I actually went. I was shy. I was curious. I packed sunscreen and a towel and told myself, “Don’t overthink it.” That helped. But not much. For five minutes I felt weird. Then I didn’t. Funny how that works.
Here’s the thing: naturism there is calm, social, and not flirty. Phones stay in bags. You sit on a towel. You respect folks. Simple rules. Big impact. Curious readers can explore more about Brazil’s laid-back naturist culture in this piece from Brazzil Magazine.
Those wanting an even broader perspective can browse this complete overview of Brazilian nudism, which maps out the history, hotspots, and cultural nuances.
For an even fuller blow-by-blow of my nudist trek—complete with backpack inventories and budget math—you can check out the long-form version I filed for Brazzil right here. Read the extended story.
I tried four places across Brazil: Praia do Pinho, Praia do Abricó, Tambaba, and Colina do Sol. Each one felt different. Each one taught me something about my body and my brain. And my sunscreen skills. You know what? Your feet need sunscreen too.
Quick Notes Before We Start
- Bring a towel for sitting. That’s the rule.
- No photos. Volunteers watch for it. I liked that.
- Cash helps. Some vendors take Pix, but not all.
- A few words of Portuguese go far: “Bom dia,” “Por favor,” “Obrigado/Obrigada.”
- Take Havaianas, a hat, and SPF 50. I used Nivea and reapplied like it was my job.
Okay, now the fun part.
Praia do Pinho (Santa Catarina) — Cozy, Organized, Chill
I took a bus to Balneário Camboriú, then an Uber to Pinho. Past the gate, a volunteer asked me to keep my phone in my bag. It felt strict at first. Later it felt safe.
The sand was clean. The water had a pushy break that slapped my thighs and made me laugh. Folks were friendly but quiet—couples, older folks, some solo people like me. I bought pastéis and água de coco from the kiosk and paid with Pix. The pastel dripped hot cheese. I did not complain.
I got a light sunburn on my feet (rookie move). Around 4 p.m., a few bugs showed up, so I used repellent from the little shop near the entrance. The staff was kind. The rules felt fair.
- What I loved: Clear rules, tidy beach, zero phone drama.
- What bugged me: Lots of stairs; the path is steep. Bring water and breathe.
- My score: 4.5/5
Praia do Abricó (Rio de Janeiro) — Wild Edge, Warm People
Abricó sits past Grumari. It’s a weekend naturist zone with a rocky path in. The walk is short, but you’ll feel it in flip-flops. The waves can be rough, so I only went waist-deep. A lifeguard whistled once, and everyone shifted back like a school of fish.
An older crowd held court under umbrellas, telling stories. I bought queijo coalho on a stick from Dona Rita and squeezed lime over it. She took cash. My beach neighbor shared a tiny patch of shade and a story about Rio surf in the 80s. I shared my sunscreen. It felt easy.
- What I loved: That rugged view and real talk with strangers.
- What bugged me: Very little shade, and the current kicked. Not great for long swims.
- Tip: Get there early; parking shrinks fast.
- My score: 4/5
Tambaba (Paraíba) — Rules That Make You Relax
Tambaba surprised me. There’s a checkpoint. Past the rocks, nudity is required. Single men without a companion can’t pass the gate, which keeps the space balanced. It sounds harsh. But once inside, it felt calm and safe. The water was warm, like a hug you didn’t expect.
I walked the cliff path, then ate moqueca at a small spot near the parking area. Later, I took a 99 ride back to João Pessoa and chatted about forró nights and wind on the coast. I’m not a dancer, but my driver swore I had the face of one. Sure, okay.
No cameras, no staring, no fuss. People chatted about football, not bodies. I forgot about mine after ten minutes, which was the real gift.
- What I loved: Clear rules, friendly vibe, warm water.
- What bugged me: The sun is ruthless. Shade is scarce past noon.
- My score: 4.7/5
Colina do Sol (Rio Grande do Sul) — A Quiet Naturist Resort
This one isn’t a beach. It’s a club with cabins, a lake, and a pool. I paid a day fee at the office and showed my ID. The place felt like summer camp for grown-ups. People played volleyball. Someone grilled chimarrão jokes—yes, that’s a real thing if you count friendly teasing over mate.
Evenings got cool, so I wore a light hoodie. Mosquitoes clocked in near sunset, but the mini market sold repellent. A member walked me around and showed me the sign that said “towel always.” Simple, clear, kind.
- What I loved: Quiet, safe, great for first-timers.
- What bugged me: Cabins are basic and the Wi-Fi yawned. Also, bring snacks; choices are slim.
- My score: 4.2/5
One snack that traveled like a champ for me was a zip-lock of sprouted Brazil nuts—I reviewed them here after a full month of munching.
Little Things I Wish I Knew Sooner
- Put sunscreen on your feet and ears. Yes, ears.
- Bring a sarong. It doubles as a towel and shade.
- Keep a small dry bag for keys and cash.
- Don’t linger with your phone out. It makes people tense.
- If you feel shy, walk the shoreline once. Your body will catch up to your brain.
Etiquette That Actually Helps
- Sit on a towel. Always.
- Ask before you sit close. Space matters.
- Don’t stare. If your eyes wander, look at the sea.
- No flirting games. It’s not that kind of place.
- Pack your trash. Beaches remember.
Curious about how the country’s permissive vibe plays out beyond the beach? Brazzil’s on-the-ground guide to sex-work laws pulls no punches—see the field notes if you want the straight facts before you land. For the nuts-and-bolts of what Brazil’s nudism regulations actually say, give this concise breakdown of the nation’s naturist laws a look before you pack. And if you’re the kind of traveler who likes to understand how professional companionship services differ from country to country—say, comparing Brazil’s laissez-faire attitude with the licensed, discreet offerings you’ll find in certain U.S. cities—this guide to Eros Redding escorts walks you through vetted profiles, rates, and etiquette tips so you can see how the escort landscape operates when you’re stateside.
For a candid French-language reflection on the intimate act of revealing oneself—one that parallels the body-positive mindset you find on Brazilian nude beaches—you can read this first-person account about voluntarily showing her “minou”; the piece breaks down boundaries, consent cues, and the liberating rush some people experience when they choose to bare it all.
Honestly, I thought I’d feel watched. I wasn’t. And yet, I did feel seen—like a person, not a shape. That’s odd to say, but true.
Who Will Love It, And Who Won’t
- You’ll love it if you crave a quiet beach, clear rules, and easy small talk.
- You might hate it if you want loud music, phones out, or party vibes.
- You’ll like it if body comfort beats fashion. You’ll hate it if you need a mirror.
My Final Take
Brazil’s naturist spots felt kind and steady. Each place had rules, but those rules set me free. I went home with sand in my bag, a calm mind, and a new respect for sunscreen. Would I go again? Yes. With a bigger hat.
- Overall score: 4.4/5
If you go, be gentle with yourself. The first five minutes are loud. Then the sea gets louder. And that’s the best part.