Chatham Island

Port Blair was not on the original RTW2023 itinerary. It was added on as one of three replacement ports when our call on Myanmar was canceled a while back.

It was obvious very early this morning that the day was going to be hot … and humid. So, Mui and I headed off Insignia early.

Since we’d visited Sri Lanka in between our last mainland India port and today’s call on the Andaman Islands, there were formalities to go through before we could proceed with our sightseeing plans. We were the first ones to do so this morning … with the Indian authorities set up on the pier.

One person reviewed and stamped our landing cards. Another one assigned us numbers — 001 and 002 — and wrote them on our landing cards. Another one instructed us on where to deposit our customs forms. Another one — standing right next to the table where all this was going on — verified the stamped landing cards. And yet another one — at the exit to the terminal — checked the paperwork one last time … at least until we returned to the port later in the day.

Welcoming us to port today were a group of women … one sprinkling shredded marigolds over us … another sprinkling what smelled like rose water … and yet another one placing bindis on our foreheads. After going through the ritual, we went off to arrange transportation for ourselves. (There was a welcome performance in the terminal at 9:00a … but we were long gone by then.)

Our hurried research into Port Blair gave us the confidence that we did not need a tour to explore the city and its environs. Using the description of a ship’s tour as guidance, we hired a tuk-tuk to see the sights. Better than a taxi, we figured, since the forward motion of the vehicle would generate a breeze that would help us deal with the humid heat. Hamza spoke very little English, but he knew his way around the city, and perhaps more importantly, knew how to negotiate the bedlam that is traffic in India.

Hamza first took us out of the hubbub of the city, following the mostly-deserted coastal road to Corbyn’s Cove, passing Japanese bunkers from WWII, a Hindu Temple, and a memorial to the Freedom Fighters at the spot where the first tricolor flag was hoisted in 1943 in Port Blair to mark the independence of the first Indian territory from the British Raj.

A dip in the ocean would not have gone amiss at Corbyn’s Cove, but the surf was very rough … thanks to Cyclone Mocha brewing offshore. So, we headed back to the city, stopping at Gandhi Park along the way for a quick photo op.

Every website we looked at when we were researching Port Blair had the same site as the #1 place to visit … the Cellular Jail … aka Kala Pani. Referred to as the Indian Bastille by some, the jail is a national memorial and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The sign at the entrance states that it “stands as a mute witness to the untold sufferings, valiant defiance, and undaunted spirit of the firebrand revolutionaries against the brutalities of the British barbarism.”

Constructed between 1896-1906, using only labor provided by prisoners, the three-story jail consists of seven “arms” … sort of like a starfish. The 698 cells all face walkways with barred openings. The thick walls, and the fact that no one cell faces another one, isolated the prisoners and kept interaction amongst them to a minimum. Thus the reason why the penitentiary is known as the “Cellular Jail.”

After paying our admission, we wandered around the prison grounds. Passing the two eternal flame stands, we headed to the junction of two of the “arms” and walked the walkways, peeking into the cells. Unfortunately, we were not able to go up to the open terrace at the very top as a movie was being filmed and that space was off-limits. Reversing direction, we found the workshed where mannequins modeled the different styles of shackles that were used back in the day. After peeking into the gallows, we exited the jail to continue our DIY wanderings.

Our next stop was at a colorful Hindu temple where we were welcomed and blessed by the priest. A funny encounter here was with a cow that came down the road as we were leaving and turned in through the temple gates like it owned the place. Maybe it did … there was one other cow already at the temple’s courtyard shrine.

Driving us around the busy town center next, Hamza gave us glimpses into daily life in and around Aberdeen Bazaar. When we spotted the sign for the Zonal Antropological Museum, we decided to go in. We were hoping for some A/C comfort since by this time sweat was pouring out of every pore. No luck on that front, but the museum was an interesting look at the tribal communities of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. No photos. At least we took none because that is what we were told, and unlike some visitors, we obeyed the signs that were posted everywhere.

By the time we left the museum, we were pretty much drained. The temp had not risen that much from the 81F we started at. But the feels like temp was 87F and rising along with the humidity.

We decided to skip the two other museums in the city and return to the ship after picking up some delicious mangos. But first, when we spotted an open salon, we stopped so we could both get haircuts. And as a bonus, I got a mani/pedi. All for the grand price of $23.77!!! A good way to spend some of our excess Indian Rupees.

We were onboard around 1:00p, grabbed a quick bite at the Terrace Café, cooled off with refreshing showers, and spent the afternoon relaxing. It was too hot to sit on the veranda until Insignia weighed anchor. As we got underway, the rain that had held off started falling in thick sheets, adding a freshness to the air … and a rainbow for our viewing pleasure.Read more