Having left their Galway home last year to cruise the Mediterranean, Phillida Eves and family spent the winter in Barcelona, settling into local ways
We arrived in the harbour on our 48-foot yacht in driving rain, choppy seas and terrible visibility. Tying up beside big, elegant yachts we felt as if we had moved a small house onto Shrewsbury Road in Dublin. The children - nine-year-old Oisín, six-year-old Cian and three-year-old Soracha - did a rain dance on deck. We were thrilled to have sailed here, excited to be in Barcelona - and very wet.
Amid all the elation Tedd and I felt anxious, because this new phase of our adventure was critical in maintaining our new live-aboard lifestyle. We immediately had to pay €3,000 to berth for six months in Marina Port Vell without knowing whether Tedd, an experienced marine engineer, could get well-paid work to support us over the winter and save for our cruising adventures this summer. We had set aside funds but wanted to continue this sailing life for as long as possible. Thankfully, despite stories of doom and gloom, within a few days he had his first job, as the winter engineer on a super-yacht in the marina.
Our home schooling generally works well, although it's hard on a boat with a three-year-old who wants to do the same as her brothers. The boys started by rowing over to the boat of our new friend Waneen, a maths teacher, for lessons. Barcelona's primary schools teach in Catalan, and initially we worried that it would be too difficult for the boys and that the school days would be too long. I also wanted them to have time to explore Barcelona.
Going to school would give them a chance to make friends, learn a new language, mix with the wider community and gain a sense of achievement. So we enrolled them in school - and they were excited about it.
About half of the 350 boats in Port Vell are occupied. The Mediterranean is unpredictable in winter, so most live-aboards choose the safety of port until spring. It is a very supportive community, and we made friends of many nationalities, including English, Spanish, Irish, South American, Dutch and American. There are wonderfully creative people - artists, potters, jewellers and fashion designers - working from their boats. Getting to know people I would normally never meet has been a highlight of living here.
Our way has been eased by locals' enthusiasm for the kids and our dog, Poppy, who they often insist come into their shop or restaurant. Our wild child Soracha (above), with her blond bird's nest and bare feet - a contrast to the beautifully groomed local children - captivates everyone and is greeted with "Hola guapa" (Hi, pretty girl).
After spending so much time together in a small area, we now move differently, more economically. It's as if we have a sixth sense in respecting each other's space, even if it is only a tiny imaginary radius around us. Oisín and Cian share a small cabin but get on really well, playing together a lot. Some days, for no clear reason, it all gets too much and we have to get away from each other. Oisín rows off into the marina to visit friends. Cian takes to his bunk, spending hours playing with his Beanie Babies. When Tedd gets home I like to explore the bohemian Born area nearby.
But the most ordinary tasks often become fun. Yesterday we took it in turns to visit one of our boat neighbours, a former hairdresser to Hollywood stars. She set us up on the deck on her little stool, facing into the wind, and worked her magic with the scissors. Meanwhile Oisín was helping Matthew, another neighbour and friend, with an anchor chain. They measured it and marked off the lengths, then Oisín made a poster advertising it for sale - an exercise involving lots of sums and discussion.
Simple outings easily become adventures. The marina is a 10-minute walk from the medieval heart of the city, the Barri Gòtic. Taking the children home from their drama class at dusk we might call into the Rey de la Magia magic shop, opened in 1881, for an impromptu show. Or wander into the delicious-smelling Papabubble shop, where the sweet-makers fling and roll their colourful mixture about like pizza dough. Oisín navigates us through the metro and bus routes on trips farther afield. We've also had some fantastic days tobogganing in the Pyrenees, only a few hours away by train.
I am disappointed with my poor level of Spanish so far, a drawback of living in the mainly English-speaking marina. It has made the school-enrolment process more difficult. But I have started lessons and plan to do all my food shopping in the market at Barceloneta when the children are in school. It's very time consuming but forces you to speak - and you always have a laugh.
The boat is cosy with a heater at night, but anyway the winter was unusually sunny and dry. Tedd installed a compact washing machine, the envy of the marina. Our galley is tiny and badly planned - the only work space is on our top-loading fridge. I am working out how to better use this area. No matter how often you sort things out it's a mess again in no time, but that's just the deal.
The compensations include a wonderful sense of freedom. There are no rules. New worlds of possibilities have opened up and we have become very close as a family. Sitting in the cockpit of the boat, sharing a bottle of cava with Tedd and musing over spending the summer in Croatia and Turkey, we are delighted that we took the plunge.
