Five Years at Sea: A Life Aboard

It was 2020, the pandemic had just begun, and we were living in Italy. We had a job in tourism and quickly realized that difficult years were ahead. The first lockdown in Italy was in March, and by April, we had begun selling all our belongings and moved onto our small sailboat, which was in Venice. In May of that year, we set sail, without a route or destination. We sailed south. Since then, we've sold our small sailboat, bought a larger one, and then an even larger one.

Last day in our Italian house

We've been living aboard since we left Venice at the start of the pandemic. Over these years, we've sailed through various parts of the Mediterranean, meeting many great people along the way, and discovering beautiful places and cultures.

I remember well our departure from Venice: we cast off the moorings and set sail in a tiny, uncomfortable sailboat. A knot in my stomach, many uncertainties, but all of it made me feel alive. That night, there was no wind. The moon reflected on the sea; it was a slow, but beautiful departure.

The evening we left Venice. No wind and full moon.

Living aboard has taught us that we can live with very little and still live well. In the first boat, the thing I missed most was an oven. I have a habit of making pizza once a week, so we improvised in a frying pan. It wasn't good... In the second boat, we had an oven, but it was weak, and the pizza still wasn't good. In the third boat, I insisted that the pizza come out perfect. We installed powerful lithium batteries and bought an air fryer perfect for pizza. Problem solved. What a trivial problem!

At each port we arrive at, it's a new adventure: a new language, a new supermarket, a new laundry. Whenever we can, we meet local people, sometimes nice people, sometimes not so much. When we arrive by sailboat in a city, we always arrive through the front door. Ports are always in the best locations, have you noticed? By car, we always arrive through the back door, the periphery. By plane too.

We face storms and calms, gradually learning to trust the boat and ourselves. We've seen many deserted islands, accessible only by boat. What a privilege to be able to do that! How wonderful it is to approach an island full of pine trees or aromatic herbs; we can smell them from afar. In the summer, when we approach the islands, we hear the song of the cicadas.

In these years, we've learned to repair the boat. The sailboat has 10,000 parts, and these parts break frequently. It's always a struggle and a challenge, but the feeling of solving a troublesome problem is sometimes very good.

We spent a long time on the island of Corfu, in Greece. Too long, perhaps. I made friends with a lady I met at the public market. I bought vegetables and fruits, all from her, and how delicious they were! It was September, and we were heading back to Venice. I saw tears running down that lady's eyes. She gave me a hug so sincere that I hadn't received one in years. She gave me a pumpkin as a gift to take on the trip, so I wouldn't go hungry on the crossing. These are important things to me. Two years passed, we returned to Corfu. Her small stall was no longer there. The lady had cancer and passed away. Life is like that, transient, like the sea we sail. Yesterday it was her, tomorrow it could be me, and then you.

After some time, we decided to start hosting guests on our sailboat. Maintaining a boat is very expensive, and by hosting guests, we can continue our life at sea. We've met very nice people in these years, and also some people we'd rather never see again. But most are very nice and have become friends, whom we carry in our hearts. How delightful it is when we make friends with our guests. How beautiful it is to see them again and give them a hug after so many months.

We had to adapt to living in a small space. The adaptation was easy, especially now that we can make our pizza from time to time.

This month marks five years of living aboard and eight years of sailing. We've learned a lot in these years and are always learning new things. At sea, each day is different, and each day brings a new lesson. We sometimes miss being settled in a city, having a fixed group of friends we can see every weekend, and not constantly worrying if a storm will destroy our boat. But in life, everything has a price; this is the price of freedom. Freedom has a very high price.

How good it was that we made that hard decision five years ago. Stay in Italy or go away!? Sometimes, in life, the hardest part is making the decision. Once you make it, everything becomes easier, and everything happens and flows.