7 sexy skinny dips in Asia

Seven spots in Asia where clothing is just a chore

By Cynthia Rosenfeld 8 October, 2010
While plunge pools pervade in Asia, very few allow us to disrobe entirely without embarrassing exposure. Here are seven of the most private, most luxurious places to ditch the bathing suit for maximum skinny dip satisfaction.
Also on CNNGo: 15 more sexy skinny dips

1. Phuket Pavilions, Thailand

Roll straight from bed into the wet spot, a deep 40 x 13 foot infinity pool outside each Andaman Sea-facing villa at Phuket Pavilions where the motto “no tan lines, no interruptions” means exactly that for couples yearning for none other than each other.
Stealthy staff live up to that promise, delivering service without a sound. That includes poolside massages where silently giggling female therapists know to leave guests to create their own happy endings.
Raid the maxi-bar stocked with Veuve Clicquot and Hagen Daaz ice cream.
US$629 per night; thepavilionsresorts.com/phuket-home

2. River House, Sri Lanka

Forget breakfast in bed. Wake each other up in the Menik Suite’s east-facing plunge pool as the sun rises over the coconut palms dappled across Sri Lanka’s River House.
Raise each other’s body heat well above the water temperature then slip back inside to climb atop the pillow strewn four-poster bed.
One dominates each of five antique-filled rooms at this inland retreat on the Madhu River, three hours’ drive south of Colombo’s international airport.
The ancient Greeks didn’t call this island Serendib, Garden of Eden for nothing.
From November to March, play Adam and Eve around this seven-acre slice of tropical paradise, luring one another upstairs and back into the buff.
US$373-485 per night; www.anilana.com

3. Banyan Tree Lijiang, China

High Naxi tiled walls encourage undressing with abandonment inside the pool villas at Banyan Tree Lijiang some 7,900 feet above sea level.
Outside of May to August when seasonal fields of rhododendrons reach full bloom, expect to raise a few goose bumps while streaking into these pools that are heated but not too hot for a good frolic.
Come up together for air in the shadow of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, the climax of this Himalayan panorama.
US$618 per night; banyantree.com/en/lijiang/overview

4. Four Seasons Resort Bali at Sayan

With every rattle of a palm frond, it is hard not to wonder what other creatures are taking pleasure in this dense bamboo jungle.
That and the occasional screams of rafters thrusting along the otherwise Sacred Ayung River are the only sounds to intrude upon the privacy of each villa at Four Seasons Resort Bali at Sayan.
All 42 thatched maxi-huts come with an outdoor shower that overlooks the river valley and a plunge pool that releases itself endlessly into the jungle’s steamy abyss.
Nudists notwithstanding, no one need fear overexposure. Farmers on the other bank are nearly naked themselves and too far away to make out the state of play.
US$680-850 per night; Fourseasons.com

5. Trisara, Thailand

Size matters at Trisara on Phuket’s northwest shore where all 39 villas are well endowed for maximum pleasure.
When the urge arises, all glass French doors open onto a longer than average, 10-meter cerulean plunge that appears to drip into the Andaman Sea, seen at its best from December to March.
No swimsuits or cover ups required, thanks to a profusion of jungle foliage expertly tended by 30 Thai gardeners that turn each of these outdoor playpens into secret sanctuaries.
Scattered about are piles of towels to dry each other off before interlacing still damp limbs on the roomy double sun bed.
Between diving in and winding down, get your hands wet and sticky by feeding each other from the villa’s daily replenishment of aphrodisiac chocolate truffles and luscious Thai mangoes.
US$600-1,230 per night; trisara.com

6. Taj Exotica Maldives

Artificial pools would be a ridiculous addition to the swimsuit and bikini-dropping gorgeousness of the Maldives.
The couple’s treatment in the Alepa Suite at the end of a private jetty is as the name of this Taj property suggests; exotic.
Before exposing delicate skin to sun, guests at Taj Exotica can build up to swimming in the buff with four different hot and cold experience showers, and seaside sun beds with Maldivian herbal mud-loving therapists plying their trade.
After being slathered in mud and loosened up on cocktails and exotic fruit snacks, its time to grab the pretty gal or studly guy, drop the pretense and swim with the lion fish and wrasse (don’t worry gents, your better bits won’t be a main target of the local wildlife.)
US$800 per night; tajhotels.com

7. Soneva Gili, Maldives

Had Robinson set sail with Mrs. Crusoe in tow, he might have gotten lucky and washed up at Soneva Gili in the Maldives.
Balanced on stilts above a shallow lagoon, the Robinson Crusoe Residences are the seven most photogenic over-water villas ever to take the character's name.
With the closest neighbor at least 1,000 feet away and no sign of the butler unless requested, couples are left entirely alone. Splash around the Indian Ocean or even snorkel naked among damsels and Oriental Sweet Lips.
US$1,593 per night; sixsenses.com

Sir David Tang's heaven and hell

Sir David Tang receives his knighthood from the Queen 

Caroline Shearing

2:43PM BST 18 Apr 2008

Hong Kong businessman Sir David Tang talks to Caroline Shearing about his best and worst holiday experiences.

Great holidays...

Which was your best holiday?

My best holiday was probably my 50th birthday in August 2004. Fifty of my favourite friends came to Bhutan from all over the world. That each of them bothered to make the difficult journey put me on a high.

The sun shone most days, and we were always cooled by the evening showers. Overall, it was a perfect balance between our urban sensibilities and a spiritual sense of the wilderness.

And the best hotel you have stayed in?

The best modern hotel in the world is Amanjiwo in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. This is the only faultless hotel I have been to and it happens to be the most beautiful hotel built in recent times. It's next to Borobudur, the largest Buddhist temple in the world.

The best classic hotel is Villa Feltrinelli at Lake Garda, because Bob Burns, when he took it over, understood everything about what a grand hotel should be. The bathroom in the best suite is the best in the world – the shower is unparalleled in the universe.
What do you need for a perfect holiday?
Both exercise and rest are essential. Sitting by the pool all day, inert, is boring. Not sight-seeing is boring. Not getting one's physical condition fit during a holiday is boring. Eating and drinking and smoking too much is also excruciatingly boring. If you do boring things during a holiday, then you feel absolutely awful at the end of it.
What do you always take with you?
I always take a PG Wodehouse for laughs and the poems of TS Eliot (and a reference book so that I can finish off my annotations to his erudite and pretentious references!). I never forget to bring some Mozart and Scriabin and Mahler for the ears and Barry Humphries's wondrously clever anthology of 1930s classics.
Where do you want to go next?
I want to sail from Hong Kong to Shanghai, into the Whampoa River up the Soochow Creek and be moored off the Bund (the embankment) for a couple of nights. I am arranging to charter the Kalizma, on which Richard Burton proposed to Elizabeth Taylor, which is in the East, but we must wait for calm seas as the East China coast can be rather rough.
What's your best piece of travel advice?
The best advice I can give on travel is to avoid airports at all costs – unless you go private. The commercial airport is now so utterly ghastly with unimaginably rude people who pass themselves off as "security officers". Their pettiness makes me cringe with rage.

...and disasters?

Which was your worst holiday?
My worst holiday was in the Sri Lankan capital, Colombo, whose colonial past had degenerated into sheer collapse, unlike that of neighbouring India. It was a depressing anti-climax when I was expecting much.
The worst moment was when I went to a casino and was unceremoniously escorted out by the manager. I had psoriasis on the back of my hand and they had detected it on their cameras. They accused me of being a leper and infecting their customers. Later that night I dined with the Prime Minister and his wife and she also had psoriasis, so I recommended that they enlighten their people.
And your worst experience on holiday?
A terrible thing happened to me when I first arrived in Nairobi years ago. I was asked if I had had the yellow fever injection. I hadn't, but joked that I didn't need it because I was yellow. The pun was not appreciated, and I was bunged into a cell for a couple of hours. Rather unpleasant, I have to admit.
What's the biggest packing mistake you've made?
I always pack too many books, being greedy on choice but I always end up only reading 25 per cent of them.
Which is the worst hotel you've stayed in?
The worst hotel I have stayed in is one off Eaton Place in London. The space, the food, the service... all too dreadful for words.
What do you avoid on holiday?
I avidly avoid crowds.
What do you hate about holidays?
I hate it when I know that there are only two days left. I also then hate having to decide what I should send out for laundry. Do I take it home or not? Such a boring question and immensely taxing.

• Sir David Tang is a Hong Kong businessman.

A life in the day: David Tang

From The Sunday Times

May 20, 2007
The entrepreneur David Tang OBE, 52, was born in Hong Kong. His businesses range from the ultra-chic boutique chain Shanghai Tang to aviation and gold-mining. He has two grown-up children from his first marriage, and lives in Hong Kong with his wife, Lucy

Interview by Sue Fox

I wake at 5.45am with four dogs on the bed: Hot and Cold, our westies, Chilly, a big labrador, and Hemington — a cross between a labrador and a cocker spaniel. I check the time on my Ball watch — it fluoresces in red, blue and green. I buy pyjamas from Charvet in Paris, who embroider “Do not disturb DT” or “DT sleeping” on the pocket. The most luxurious thing is to change your fine Egyptian-cotton pyjamas and sheets each day. I go to my study, where I’m very spoilt. My housekeeper brings me orange juice, fruit and coffee made with freshly pulverised Colombian beans. Every other day she adds a touch of cardamom to sharpen the taste. In the loo, I switch on the BBC World Service.
Sitting at my desk, I watch Sky News and read the South China Morning Post, Herald Tribune and Financial Times. I don’t have a laptop — I’ve never touched a mouse in my life — but this summer I’m launching an internet company. I check my BlackBerry for e-mails and go through the papers delivered from the office the previous night. I’m meticulous about answering e-mails within 24 hours. One of three secretaries — she’s the Lara Croft of dictation — deals with my business matters. On January 1 the government banned smoking in offices.
I smoke Punch Double Corona Cabinet cigars, cut in half, and hardly go to the office any more. I’d rather be at home.
The next three hours, from 9 to 12, are my time. I shower using Kiehl’s plainest shampoo and Roger & Gallet soap, sitting on a built-in seat with water raining down on me from a huge shower head. I say hello to Lucy, then get on my cross-trainer. We love to crack a joke in the morning, but we’re competitive about keeping fit. In the last 18 months I’ve lost 35lb. Wherever I am in the world, my office faxes crosswords from the Telegraph and Times. I make a start on the easier Telegraph, aiming to finish as much as possible in the 35 minutes I’m on the cross-trainer. Then I do weights, with an opera DVD playing on screen.
When I came to England at 13 I hadn’t heard of Mozart, Bach or Beethoven. Now classical music is an integral part of my life. I own a 9ft Steinway grand. There’s no point having anything less, especially if you’re not good. I’m working on the last movement of the Moonlight Sonata. I get terribly cross knowing I don’t pay enough attention to fingering. We amateurs are very sloppy on fingering. I’m lucky to get half an hour at the piano. The phone rings constantly. My businesses — apart from Shanghai Tang, restaurants and clubs — have involved oil exploration, cigars and gold-mining. I’m doing many things, including a new hotel. And I’m president of the Hong Kong Youth Arts Foundation and founder chairman of the Hong Kong Cancer Fund and Down’s Syndrome Association. In autumn 2005 I begged the government to take on one or two young Down’s-syndrome people in the civil service. After six months, I’d heard nothing. Now triumph! The government has employed two Down’s-syndrome youngsters at the post office.
I have lunch in one of my two Hong Kong places: the China Club or Cipriani. Then I have meetings, which I hate.
I travel a great deal, giving speeches every other week. I’m chairman of a company selling private jets, and I have generous friends who might lend me a plane or let me hitch a ride. If I have to fly commercial, I use British Airways Special Services. I just take a briefcase. I have clothes in most of the places I go — suits made by Welsh & Jeffrey, tailors to Eton. I didn’t go to Eton, but my mother always said people will think you did if you wear suits by their tailor.
As a child I adored my grandmother, but my grandfather was a nightmare. He founded the Kowloon bus company and became one of Hong Kong’s greatest philanthropists. When we grandchildren wanted to see him, we had to go through his secretary. Then the Chinese Almanac had to be consulted. When my father, barely a year old, was very ill, my grandfather was alarmed at the prospect of the premature death of his only son. To comfort him, my great-grandmother — believing my father would die — lied to him out of kindness. She told my grandfather he shouldn’t grieve because the family soothsayer had said my father would blacken his life. He miraculously recovered, but it was too late. My grandfather considered his son as one who must not be near him, lest his own life become adversely affected. So he sent him away with my grandmother and never asked to see them again.
I’m grateful to have a lifestyle I enjoy. But I wouldn’t go crazy if I were to lose it tomorrow. I can cook. I could go to the supermarket — the most hideous thing — and I know how to use the launderette. Since turning 50 I’m not as sociable. By 5pm I want to be home with Lucy, my books, poetry and my piano. Our cook makes dinner — Chinese, Indian or European. Unless it’s to the cinema, I hate going out. I used to buy the two seats in front of us so no big heads got in the way, but Hong Kong’s cinemas are better now, so I’ve stopped.
I read and go to bed late. Before I go to sleep I watch 24 or a bit of crap on television. Lucy and I laugh a lot. But as we slide into those newly ironed crisp sheets, both of us say: “Thank God.” We live in fear that this can’t last. Something is going to go wrong

一生可以拥有的25件奢侈品

一生可以拥有的25件奢侈品，你拥有了多少？
1 能背著包包走天下的健康。
2 舒心的工作 。
3 起风的天总有人提醒你加衣。
4 睡著的时候总有人为你盖被。
5 穿上便宜T恤也很美丽的健康身材夕。
6 写得一手好字。
7 想旅行时，总有谈得来的朋友愿意请假陪伴。
8 每天都能踏实地睡个好觉。
9 会欣赏美丽的心和能欣赏美丽的心情。
10 每时每刻都过得有意义和幸福。
11 一个教会你爱和被爱的人。
12 你为之甘心付出的伴侣。
13 心中永远的自由。
14 带给他人向上的精神特质。
15 学会放弃。
16 学会承受。
17 接受并珍惜上天赐予你的一切。
18 亲自播种，收穫。
19 珍藏一件凝聚情感的物品。
20 寻找失落的童心。
21 心境开阔。
22 信守一个诺言。
23 尝尽有益健康的美食。
24 偶尔使个小小坏
25 把你所能想到的一件浪漫的事变为现实。