India: Port Blair, Andaman Islands

Tuesday, May 9, 2023, Port Blair, India

In some ways, this is one of the weirdest places we’ve been yet. On an island far east of India but still considered part of India, it seemed like a hybrid of different places. The traffic was lively with horn honking by taxis, motorcycles & tuk-tuks. Random dogs, goats, and cows wandered or lay around. Regularly the power would go out for a few minutes for no discernible reason. Customs officers were much stricter than other Indian cities. We had to sign special customs forms. People on the ship who were born in China could not come ashore. Anyone born in Pakistan or who had been to Pakistan could not come ashore. Extra forms were required, too.

The ship was in port by the time we woke up at 7 am. We didn’t have a tour lined up, but there was a shuttle from port to downtown starting at 9 am. In the customs building, we were greeted by Indian women who sprinkled rose petals on us and put an orange dot on my forehead. We picked up a map and were on the first shuttle. I asked the shuttle bus helper (there is always someone assigned to the bus who speaks English) to help me locate the port on the map and the place we were being dropped off. He pointed to #12 on the map for the drop-off point. I looked up #12 on the map and it said “Jogger’s Park.” We were dropped off at a market center with a gold statue of Gandhi in the center. 

From the market center we found a tuk-tuk to take us to the post office, which was in another part of town. Tuk-tuk drivers in this town don’t speak much English. Most of the locals don’t. We’d been carrying around post cards from India for a few days without finding a place to buy stamps. Predictably, they would not take US dollars. 

A tuck-tuck 

We started walking to the bank to exchange dollars for rupees. I should mention that crossing the street in Port Blair is a hair-raising experience, even in a crosswalk. Traffic is pretty constant in both directions and no one stops for pedestrians. The constant horn honking doesn’t help. Our approach was to follow a local. They seemed to have developed a sixth sense when it comes to timing the traffic patterns.

On our way to the bank, Charlie ducked into a construction office (blessedly air conditioned—it was hot and humid outside). His plan was to offer $5 for $3 worth of rupees to save us time. The nice owner who spoke English exchanged our money fairly and invited us to sit down and have coffee. We accepted and visited for a bit. They don’t see many Americans in the neighborhood.

We walked back to the post office with our rupees, bought stamps, and mailed our post cards. The lights went out for a couple of minutes while we were in there. 

We noticed a hyper market—India’s version of a supermarket—across the street. We bought snacks and a gallon of water (the only size they had; fortunately it had a handle on it). The lights went out for a couple of minutes while we were looking for the cracker aisle. After some discussion with the manager, they took Visa cards, adding 3.5% to the bill. Fine with us. The lights went out again for a minute or so while we were checking out. 

Once outside, we randomly decided to walk to the right. The sidewalk ran out. We had to cross the street to continue. We were having trouble. A small Indian woman motioned for us to follow her, which we dutifully did. A tuk-tuk came up beside us and just kind of followed us until we decided to get in. The driver’s name was Ali. We decided to go back to the Gandhi statue and do some shopping in that area. I told the driver we needed to go to Jogger’s Park. On the way, we passed a cow in the middle of the road—all the traffic had to swerve around it. He seemed to be going in the wrong direction, and sure enough when we got there it was not near the Gandhi statue. I finally realized there were two #12s on the map we had (different colors). We decided since we were there we’d look around and the driver was willing to wait for us. This area looked down on an impressive new airport and runway big enough for a 747 to land. There were signs in the area that said “no photo zone” but we and others took photos anyway. On the way back toward town, the cow was still in the road.

Unique to India—a cow in the road, traffic swerving around it.

Ali then took us to the aquarium, one of our standby activities. This one had small fish tanks but an impressive display of dried coral with quite a bit of information in English.

Next was the Cellular Jail museum. Indian freedom fighters were sent there during the time leading up to India’s independence. There was a memorable art section honoring the freedom fighters. I walked the distance to look at the cells—all prisoners were kept in solitary cells apart from each other. I didn’t spend much time there. They were working on this area and some of the cells had photos of the man who was kept there.

We finally made it back to the golden Gandhi statue. There was a lot of shopping there. Our main problem was most of the vendors would not take US dollars and we had minimal rupees. Charlie found a ring, and I found a lot of textiles I planned to buy (they took Visa). There was a problem with their credit card machine and my Costco Visa card. I’ve run into it before and was kicking myself not bringing my AlaskaAir Visa card. It works everywhere. Anyhow, I came home empty handed. It suddenly poured rain for a few minutes before we headed back to the ship! Ali dropped us off at the ship, and our agreed upon amount was suddenly not enough. Too bad, it was all we had left.

A lovely vendor. We had some coconut water.

Walking to the ship, there were tiny little bank swallows swooping around. A delightful end to our time ashore.