Living aboard at Narbonne-Plage

At the end of the month, we’ll relinquish our berth at Narbonne Plage and embark on our sailing adventures.
For now, I’m getting accustomed to life aboard, and it’s not quite what I expected.
I knew we’d be living in a 30-square-meter space with limited water, but the reality is still an adjustment.

Hygiene

Our boat lacks a black water tank, meaning we can’t use the onboard toilet. Harbor regulations prohibit dumping sewage directly into the water—it must be stored in a tank, like in a camper van, and emptied at a designated facility. This restriction has forced me to limit my bathroom trips, which is especially tricky at night. Once, I resorted to using a pot on the boat because I didn’t want to wander the harbor in the dark.

Fortunately, we’re docked right next to the restroom facilities here, unlike at Gruissan harbor, where it was a daunting 10-minute walk to the showers—particularly unnerving alone at night.

The good thing about the Narbonne Plage shower facilities is that it is mix. So I can shower with Nico in the evening. Whereas in Gruissan, I was all alone on my Women side of the facilities. 

We also don’t have a washing machine or much clothing storage, so daily outfit changes are a thing of the past.
We wear the same clothes until they’re dirty or start to smell, then haul them to a nearby laundromat. While we still have a car until the end of the month, we can drive to do laundry near points of interest. Once the car’s gone, though, it’ll be a different story. We’re considering e-scooters as a solution.

On the bright side, I’ve stopped caring about appearances.
I wear practical clothes I don’t mind getting dirty and stick to the same outfit for three days straight—it’s surprisingly liberating and saves time in the morning.

Cooking

Cooking aboard is gas-powered and takes twice as long as it did at home. The counter space is so narrow that I’m constantly cleaning and rearranging just to prep food. Sometimes I use the saloon table for extra space, and so does Nico.

With only two small burners, multitasking is a challenge—my pan’s often too big to cook two things at once.
Not to mention there is no kitchen hood. 
The seller has made one that is not bad, but too voluminous so hopefully Nico can build a foldable one instead. 

The gas stove and oven are slow to heat, making meal prep an adventure in patience.
While we’re docked at the harbor with electricity, we can use a single-burner induction stove, which helps a bit.

Dishwashing is another ordeal. Our 500-liter water tank discourages using the tiny onboard sink, so I trek to the harbor facilities instead. It’s a lot of back-and-forth. We’re thinking about investing in a water maker—time will tell.

Sleeping

Storage is, unsurprisingly, limited. Despite numerous hatches, there’s not enough room for all our old belongings.

We’re embracing minimalism now—no more hoarding like we did in bigger spaces. Every purchase is carefully considered since the cupboards won’t stretch.

I’ve become a pro at stacking to make things fit.

Storage space

Storage is of course is an issue. We cannot store all our belongings like we used to. Although there are many hatches throughout the boat. But it still won't be enough.

So we have to live a minimalist life from now on. 
Which is good, we won't be tempted to hoarder like before. 
The bigger the space, and the more we'd fill it up. 
Now we think twice before buying something, because the cupboards are not expandables. 
I need to stack things up for things to fit. 

Nico gets 2 closets, and I get all the rest. LOL. 

Electricity

While docked, we’re hooked up to the harbor’s power supply, so we’re living comfortably—cranking the heaters to fend off the cold.
Once we’re underway, we’ll rely on two 12W solar panels (though we’re not entirely sure of the wattage—we’ll sort that out later). For now, being at port keeps us cozy.

Overall

Living aboard feels like residing in a small countryside studio, far from the bustle of a city. 

Each morning, we wake to a stunning harbor view, free from the pressure of a 9-to-5. 

The daily trips to the restroom force me to stretch my legs beyond the boat’s 12-meter length, creating a simple routine.

It’s exciting for now, though I suspect the novelty might wear off.
Hopefully, frequent location changes will keep the sense of discovery alive.