Discover Local Customs Cultural faux pas adds some spice to this couple's cruising life. By Josh Holloway There are many ways to immerse yourself in a new culture. Some people read books. Some hire guides. Others unknowingly commit minor social crimes and wait for the consequences to be explained to them in a crowded hut. Cultures can clash over something as simple as a beach barbecue — one never knows if the sticks on the sand may be needed for a different purpose. The Meeting Hut Incident A hush consumed the entire maneaba, a Kiribati meeting hut. My lovely wife, Heidi, and I sat crisscross on the dirt floor, fidgeting awkwardly, keenly aware that all the villagers were staring at us in disapproval. A few moments earlier, Heidi and I had been chatting enthusiastically about our previous day’s fishing catch, and how we had enjoyed cooking it up over a beach fire in the nearby cove. A villager had asked, “Where did you get your wood?” “From the be...

Setting Sail with Kids "The sailing itch returned, and my wife and I decided it was time to raise sail again and introduce our brood to the dream." By Josh Holloway There are many romantic visions of family sailing life: sunsets, dolphins, children laughing in the rigging. There are fewer brochures featuring a toddler urinating on a carefully assembled brunch buffet. This is an oversight. Cove and Kai enjoy a swing in the rigging of Tiny Bubbles II in the waters off Maine. The Brunch Incident “Josh, shut off the water!” my wife, Heidi, yelled up to me from the galley. Huh? What water? I thought, as I turned just in time to witness our 1-year-old standing proudly in the cockpit, having repurposed himself into a fully operational fountain. The stream arced gracefully across the entire brunch buffet and, for good measure, continued through the companionway onto my wife. I reacted quickly, which is to say, not quickly enough. I scooped him ...

Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate, Nomadventure earns from qualifying purchases. This post contains affiliate links (#ad), meaning we may receive a small commission at no extra cost to you if you make a purchase through a link. We only recommend gear we actually use. Costa Rica Surf Guide: Best Waves for Every Skill Level (Family Tested, Parent Humbled) 14 breaks from mellow beginner beaches to the wave that locals call "the cheese grater" — plus eight years of honest, hard-won knowledge from a family that moved here in 2016 and never quite left Costa Rica. Where the waves are warm, the children are prodigies, and the parents are excellent documentarians of their own failures. 📋 What's in This Guide Why Costa Rica Ruined Us for Other Surf Destinations Beginner Surf Spots (Sandy Bottoms, Patient Instructors) Intermediate Spots (Where Confidence Meets Humility) Advanced Breaks (Approach With Re...

Costa Rica to Panama with Kids: Crossing Sixaola to Bocas del Toro — Carenero, Bastimentos & the Bridge That Changed Us Costa Rica to Bocas del Toro with Kids: How to Cross the Sixaola Bridge, Island-Hop to Paradise, and Come Home Slightly Sunburned and Completely Satisfied In which we navigate a pedestrian border crossing over a river, discover that boat taxis are a perfectly acceptable school bus alternative, snorkel in a national marine park, encounter a snake of non-trivial dimensions, and conclude that Panama is best appreciated with tropical fruit, a cold beer, and sufficiently low expectations about the surrounding rubbish situation. The Bocas del Toro archipelago sits on the Caribbean coast of Panama, just across a small bridge over the Rio Sixaola from Costa Rica. In a straight line it's roughly 40 miles from Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica. In actual travel time, given that you cross an international border and then board a boat, it takes around three to fo...

4th Time's the Charm: Climbing El Potrero Chico and Road-Tripping to Punta de Mita From a Border Office Standoff in Coahuila to a Music Video Shoot in Nayarit — This Is the Mexico Trip That Finally Worked El Potrero Chico, Nuevo León. Where limestone goes to be extraordinary and families go to discover their limits. There is a specific kind of humility that comes from being turned away at the same international border twice. The first time, the Mexican border officer at Piedras Negras informed us that Base Camp — our converted school bus, our beloved rolling home — was registered as a "bus" and therefore could not receive a Temporary Import Permit (TIP). "No se puede," she said, with the serene finality of someone who has delivered this news before and is entirely comfortable delivering it again. We drove thousands of miles back to Maine to re-register it as an RV. We spent a summer working. We came back. The second time was the...