Chapter 4
HOW SMALL IS SMALL?
In any list of human needs, shelter is one amongst a set of needs that are essential for survival. But a home is more than a shelter. It has a use value as a private space for the individual and the family. It has a locational value that influences our relations with other people and places. It can also shape and direct behavior. "Space, time, and money intersect to establish the physical settings where all the events of life will be staged. Whether they are harmonious or discordant, residential neighborhoods reverberate with meaning, and disappointments about them affect women and men of varied ages, income levels, ethnic groups, and racial groups." (Hayden 1984: 39)
My hypothesis is that one aspect of living aboard (i.e. the limited space within the shelter) shapes and positively reinforces the lifestyle. My question then is: "How can shelter shape a lifestyle and influence cultural values and rules?" More specifically, how does living on a boat, on the water, in a small shelter within a marina, shape and encourage the lifestyle of liveaboards? And what distinct cultural values and rules of the sub-culture are related to living in a limited space? Why are the space limitations and inconveniences of living aboard a boat and sharing public facilities perceived as challenges to be met by inventiveness and adaptation and not as deterrents? How do the rewards of living aboard in a small space positively reinforce the lifestyle?
I will begin by answering the question: " How small is small?" The vessels being used as liveaboards in my study ranged from twenty-seven to forty-six feet in length, and from nine to fourteen feet in width. The interior living space of the sailing vessels ranged from 90 square feet to 263 square feet; because of differences in design, the one power boat had almost 500 square feet of interior living space. (Figures 3 and 4 in Appendix C reveal why power boats are more spacious below decks.) These figures were computed by taking the water-line of the vessel, multiplying it by the beam (width of the vessel), and then dividing by two in order to account for the shape of the vessel and space lost to the exterior cockpit area. Trying to compare this square footage with a land-based dwelling is very difficult because of several reasons. First of all, on board a boat many functions are served by one area (cooking, eating, sitting, reading, entertaining, sleeping, food storing, clothes storing, etc.) unlike a house or apartment where the kitchen, dining room, living room, and bedroom are separate. Secondly, except in the case of the power boat, headroom is seldom over 6'3". This makes common activities like stretching while standing, or lifting a baby in the air, impossible. In addition, most couples used the vee-shaped berth ("V-berth") as their sleeping quarters. A single person laying in the center of this forward section of the boat is usually able to stretch his or her arms out and touch both sides of the hull (both walls) and the overhead (ceiling) without moving. And the most forward section of this berth (where the feet sleep) is usually even more narrow. Lastly, the actual walking space (cabin sole) within the vessel is considerably smaller that the estimate of square footage due to the nature of built-in amenities (see Figures 5 and 6 in Appendix C). As a result, the cabin sole is less than half the estimated square footage. Most land-based American homes have larger kitchens.
Non-liveaboards, including other boat owners, relatives, credit companies, harbormasters, BCDC staff, etc., have frequently voiced amazement at why anyone would choose to live in such a small "home" with limited space for the storage of personal possessions, without mail and newspaper delivery, and often with no hot and cold running water, no private shower, and no telephone. To the outsider, such "primitive" and "limited" living conditions might approximate "squalor" - or appear "claustrophobic". But my informants equated their conditions with "camping in style" and perceived a certain "quality in the lifestyle". My informants said they received a great deal of support in their lifestyle from spouses and other live-aboards. Nonetheless, they frequently felt discouraged by authorities, and sometimes merely "tolerated" by parents and friends. Some refrained from telling employers about their lifestyle, mostly because of the negative stereotypes of transient and weird "boat people".
The increased efficiency in the use of space after moving aboard is often accompanied by a decreased consumption of both energy and material goods yet a quality of lifestyle is achieved that is consciously appreciated. This enjoyment of a simple lifestyle that is voluntarily chosen shows that low consumption can be tied into high satisfaction. Surely this is a contradiction of the "American Dream".
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