The beauty (and the paradox) of life with boats in the Netherlands

Last week, I wrote about the downsides of living on board, and came to the conclusion that there really aren't any. Not that I can think of, anyway. The only problem, it turned out, was winter.
Winter on the Vereeniging
But, as one of my friends and commenters mentioned, it's not even winter itself that's the downside, it's where we live in winter that's the problem: the Netherlands. And this got me thinking. Where else could I live on a barge all year round and not have to experience the winter chills? After wracking my brains, I couldn't honestly think of anywhere other than western Europe where living aboard is the norm unless you're in the commercial transport business. And of all European countries, the Netherlands is where liveaboard barges and boats proliferate the most.
Lying abreast a liveaboard barge in Cambrai
northern France
This, of course, means it's much easier to live on a boat here than it is elsewhere. I hasten to add that I don't include the UK in this comparison; they have their own canal boat system, which is totally different from ours. However, more even than in Belgium, France and Germany (where there are also many liveaboards), the Dutch are used to accommodating those of us who like life afloat, so much so there are even floating homes that are not actually barges. They're called woonarken and look more like mobile homes on the water, but they're hugely popular and fetch very high prices if you ever want to buy one with a mooring. Many of the cities, Amsterdam included, have miles of canals lined with these static, floating houses and that's quite apart from the harbours and marinas that house barges like mine.
Houseboats and woonarken in Amsterdam
(The woonark is beyond the second barge)
I would also imagine there are more marinas here in the Netherlands than there are in the rest of Europe too, and definitely more historic harbours for traditional barges and classic boats like ours. What this means is that almost everywhere we go, we can wander along quaysides, walk around marinas and visit harbours knowing there are likely to be boats on which people live. I don't think this is anything like as widespread in our neighbouring countries, do you? 
So, there's the paradox of the whole situation. If we want the (perceived) freedom of having a home we can take with us when we want to move, then we're limited as to where we can actually go and live. Taking that a step further, we're only really free to live this life in countries that have winters with a capital W. And even then, the choices are pretty limited unless you live in the Netherlands. 
Liveaboard boats everywhere we go

That brings me to another point. I love a good paradox and the restrictions on the freedom to live aboard are a perfect example. For instance, despite it being an accepted way of life in Holland, you can't just park your barge anywhere you like; you have to have an authorised mooring, and these are hard to come by. Added to that, there are all sorts of rules to be complied with that you don't have in a house. 
We have to have annual fire extinguisher inspections, and those who have gas on board have to have their installations checked regularly as well. Then there's the lift-outs for insurance inspections which are obligatory every six years (you don't have those for a house either!), while barges longer than 20 metres need to undergo quite extensive modifications for their cruising certificates (all compulsory). They're also obliged to have onboard electronic positioning systems so they can be seen and tracked wherever they go. And yet, ironically, it still feels like freedom, a feeling intensified when we cast off the ropes and say goodbye to the land.
Barges over 20 metres have to have extensive modifications

Koos and I are already busy preparing to do just that, hopefully this coming summer. I've been sanding and varnishing skylights and name boards, as well as planning a refurbishment of the interior of our Hennie H. We're also hoping to do a trip on the Vereeniging and the thought of that magical feeling when we reverse out of our mooring is what keeps the sense of freedom alive. That's real liberation. Normal life as we live it in the winter months is just enduring winter under different circumstances from land-based folk, and I love the circumstances, if not the winter. But the real thrill is when we throw off the ropes and go – armed with a stack of paperwork, certificates and permits, of course.

Have a good week allemaal. Keep healthy and keep busy and look after yourselves.

Our own harbour in Rotterdam