Tall ships come into the harbor looking like they wandered out of a century that never actually ended. For three days they belong to you — board them, walk the deck, put your hand on rigging somebody still maintains by hand.
Then the cannons start, and the sound comes back off the water in a way no film has ever gotten right. Pirates roam the grounds with the swagger of people who have been doing this for decades and refuse to stop. There are mermaids, or at least people who commit entirely to being mermaids at a maritime festival, which is its own category of magic.
Around the spectacle sits the real thing: ocean science exhibits, dockside demonstrations, a beer garden pouring local, live music that sounds better bouncing off water, food trucks down the harbor. Kids learn how a sextant works. Adults learn how a cannon fires.
Bring somebody small. Watch them decide, on the spot, to become a sailor.