Vlog #30 — and I’m finally starting to feel at home in front of the camera.
It’s funny how something that once felt awkward now feels like a natural part of our journey. Each vlog still holds a touch of vulnerability, but also a growing sense of pride — because we’re learning, evolving, and getting a little better each time.
This episode takes us back to Olbia, Sardinia — a chapter filled with lessons about simplicity, chaos, and the beauty of living with less.
Before we moved aboard, I lived in a spacious home with a garage, an attic, and endless corners to hide clutter in. Now, everything is visible, everywhere, all the time. Tools that linger after a quick repair, craft projects that explode across the saloon, toys that seem to multiply overnight.
Sometimes I try to let it go — to accept the mess as part of our story. But every time I do, it seems to open the floodgates, and suddenly our floating home becomes a tiny carnival of chaos. So, I dance between acceptance and frustration, learning that balance isn’t something you find — it’s something you practice, over and over again.
During this vlog, we welcome dear friends — the Haagen family: Patrick, Miranda, their daughters Benthe and Amber, and Benthe’s boyfriend Sven. They brought laughter, energy, and an inspiring level of fitness that made me both admire and envy them just a little.
After their visit, we welcomed Ellen — a brilliant architect and captain who once trained with Kay for their Yachtmaster Ocean certification. Together, we crossed from Corsica to Menorca — a calm passage with little wind and plenty of time to reflect. I didn’t film much then, but during this current trip along the French coast, I shared my memories of that crossing.
While recording, I spotted a dark shadow moving through the water — my heart skipped a beat. A whale, I thought.
But as the ripples spread, it turned out to be just a playful group of birds. Still, it brought back a memory I’ll never forget.
Last year, on that same route, the sea gifted us something magical.
As the sun set, we watched whales breach in the distance — one after another, as if saying hello. Later that night, under a sky scattered with a thousand stars, Lewis whispered that she wished to see a falling star.
So, I woke her in the middle of the night, wrapped her in a blanket, and together we lay under the infinite sky — counting dozens of shooting stars between Menorca and Corsica.
The next day, in the middle of the passage, we stopped the boat. Kay and I climbed to the bow and jumped into the deep blue — something that terrified me, but also freed me.
Because sometimes, the sea asks you to trust — not in what you can see, but in what you can feel.
That’s what this life teaches me every day.
To breathe.
To balance.
And to believe — that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
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