When I tell people I live on a sailboat in the Mediterranean full-time, they often imagine a life of zero stress — countless Aperol spritzes and endless swims in turquoise water. And yes, sometimes it’s exactly that. But more often than not, it's hours spent gazing at a motionless horizon, chasing coffee mugs as they slide across the counter, and tackling an ever-growing list of boat repairs.

Life out here has a unique rhythm. Some days are relaxed — filled with swims, strolls through coastal towns, and afternoons spent in a hammock with a good book. Other days are long and challenging, sometimes involving hours just trying to make fifty miles down the coast with only a few gusts of wind. It’s unpredictable, occasionally frustrating, and always full of moments that stick with you.

For me, that rhythm took some adjusting. I didn’t grow up sailing. I didn’t arrive with a lifetime of knots, charts, or boat jargon under my belt. I showed up with curiosity, a love of adventure, and a willingness to learn. It sounds romantic — until you realize there’s no shortcut to slowing down. Out here, you can’t just hit the gas and be somewhere in an hour. You move at the speed of the wind, the sea, and the occasional smug seagull that seems to enjoy mocking your progress.

Anchoring and Exploring: The Best Part of Sailing

The truth is, most of our time on the water isn’t spent sailing. It’s spent anchored. When the boat is settled in a bay for a few days, that’s when life in the Mediterranean truly shines.

We swim until our fingers are pruny, snorkel through rocky coves, and pull the kids behind the dinghy on a tube. Afternoons often involve drying salty swimsuits on the lifelines, reading paperbacks that smell like sunscreen, and napping under the boom’s shade. But after a while, even the best swimming spot becomes routine — and that’s when we explore the nearby town.

What makes sailing the Mediterranean special is the easy access to charming coastal towns. Each country offers its own magic. In Portugal, mornings are spent wandering bustling fish markets where vendors call out the day’s catch and wrap sardines in paper. In Spain, evenings stretch long in tapa bar–lined plazas, with kids playing soccer while adults linger over sangria. In Greece, whitewashed houses climb the hillsides, with bright blue shutters that seem to glow in the sunlight.

Trying new foods, experiencing local cultures, and finding hidden gems are highlights of life on a sailboat. Fresh bread from local bakeries, strong espresso from seaside cafés, or wandering into a multistory bookstore feels like a treat. On land, those things might be routine. At sea, they become treasures.

Reality Check: The Challenges of Life at Sea

Of course, living on a sailboat isn’t always idyllic. Boats are needy. Something is always breaking, leaking, or squeaking. You quickly learn the sound of every pump and hatch — because when something changes, it usually means trouble. Privacy doesn’t really exist when you’re crammed into what is essentially a floating apartment. And let’s just say, running out of fresh bread on day three at anchor feels far more tragic than it should.

Meeting people isn’t automatic. Boats drift in and out of anchorages, and unless you’re the type to paddle over and introduce yourself, it can get lonely. One of the best icebreakers we’ve found is pulling out a game on shore — especially our Beach Bocce Ball set. What started as a way to entertain ourselves quickly became the easiest way to meet people. Some of our best friendships began with nothing more than a “Mind if we join?” tossed across the sand. Without that, those afternoons would’ve been pleasant, but nowhere near as fun.

One thing I didn’t expect was how important games would become out here. On land, they’re an afterthought — something you pull out at the occasional barbecue or during the holidays. On the water, they’re survival tools. They give you something to do when the horizon won’t budge. They break the ice when meeting other sailors feels intimidating. And maybe most importantly, they stop you from strangling the people you live with in close quarters.

Evenings on the Boat: Food, Friends, and Games

If mornings are about navigating and afternoons about swimming, evenings bring the best kind of routine. Some nights we cook simple meals onboard: fresh-grilled fish from the market, a salad of sun-ripened tomatoes and crisp cucumbers, crusty bread, and a bottle of local wine. We eat on the flybridge while the sun dips low, painting the sea pink and orange.

Other nights, sailors gather on one boat, each bringing a dish, and suddenly the cockpit is overflowing with food and laughter. Glasses clink, plates are passed hand-to-hand, kids sneak bites of dessert before dinner — and somehow, it feels like family, even if you only met a few days ago.

After we clear the dishes, the games come back out. Our current favorite is Roule, one of our SeaTurtle Sports board games that somehow always takes over the evening. Rounds stretch for hours, filled with alliances that collapse quickly, heated debates over rules, and laughter so loud it makes the neighbors jealous.

Why the Mediterranean Sailing Lifestyle Is Worth It

Living full-time on a sailboat in the Mediterranean isn’t just about spritzes and swims — although there are plenty of both. Life at sea isn’t perfect, but that’s exactly what makes it worthwhile. The rhythm is slower, the challenges are real, and the rewards come in little things: a shared meal, a game played, a town explored, or a sunset watched from the deck.

What surprised me most was how quickly the small moments began to matter more than the big ones. Sure, we’ve sailed past cliffs that plunge into turquoise water and anchored in bays so beautiful they don’t seem real. But the memories that linger — the ones that define life out here — are often the simplest: a loaf of warm bread, a game of bocce with new friends, or the sound of water lapping against the hull during a hammock nap.

Out here, the little moments hold the most meaning. Living on a sailboat in the Mediterranean has taught me that slowing down isn’t easy — but it’s worth every second.

Written by Addie Duchin, SeaTurtle Sports Sailing Correspondent