Chatham

Arriving in Port Blair was exhilarating. Though Phil and I have both lived in Asia for many years, this is my first introduction to India and after months between Thailand and Malaysia, it looks, smells and feels extremely dissimilar. There is something already exotic about arriving somewhere by boat. Even if that place happens to be readily accessible by other means of transport, by evading them you avoid arrival terminals, other tourists, taxi cues. Instead we were greeted by a bustling port and as we entered Chatham channel – all the while communicating with local port authorities with a VHF radio – I had the ridiculous but giddy feeling that we were discovering something new. Granted it was only new to Phil and I, but the excitement mounted.

We anchored finally in the designated area for visiting yachts and for the first time in five days the rocking, rolling, lurching, climbing, falling… stopped. Though it had taken my body some time to become accustomed to it, I had luckily never found the movement uncomfortable during our crossing and it was actually the lack thereof that resulted in an immediate headache. In my mind I pictured my brain, which had been bobbing along happily, hitting the front of my skull as the boat reached a halt.

Although I was itching to explore the first piece of the Andamans we had access to (and also curious to see how my legs would feel on firm land), we could not go to shore until the following morning. We spent the day of our arrival welcoming authorities onto the boat, which sounds anticlimactic but was actually a very comical and colourful experience.

The next morning we made the one-kilometer long dinghy ride to the dock and began to visit Port Blair, the largest town and capital of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, a union territory of India.

As I have not had the chance to visit mainland India, I cannot make any comparative statements but according to Phil the South Andaman Island port is a “very chilled out version” of India. And I can see what he means. There are the beginnings of the chaotic characteristics associated with India; jaywalking cows, loud music blaring from invisible speakers, fishing boats near the roads, the intermittent car horns. But all with a laid back island-life attitude in much less densely populated space.

Driving to the heart of town you feel that you have travelled back in time. That you are on an island somewhere in the 60’s or in some warped Asian version of the Dharma Initiative. We rode a beautiful HM taxi through streets lined with white linens drying in the sun. We arrived at the Harbour Master’s office where we had to present our itinerary for approval and receive our final clearance to visit the nearby islands.

The building, well maintained but clearly out dated had incredible charm as we stepped into offices where windows were wide open, letting the sunlight yellow the stacks and stacks of papers that have not yet been replaced by computer hard drives. Everywhere we visited was clearly over staffed with officials taking time and pleasure in completing their duties in an orderly fashion as well as consulting their colleagues or inviting them in just for fun. Though we had read warnings about the bureaucratic procedures necessary to visit the islands, we were on the contrary surprised by the officials’ friendliness and enjoyed participating and observing their administrative culture.

We had lunch and did our grocery shopping in Aberdeen Bazaar, which consists of one main road that starts with a giant golden Ghandi monument and stretches upwards for about four blocks. These four blocks are packed with stores side by side, on top of each other, above street level, below street level and some almost on the street itself. Everything from bakeries to dental surgeons, clothing, supermarkets, electronics, chai tea stands and Internet cafes is packed in the small and bustling downtown area. We bought our fruits and vegetables from the fresh market then continued up the road to Baba Restaurant where eight four-person tables are crammed into the last shop lot on the road and we waited in line to get a seat and some delicious chicken masala, vegetable curry and tomato rice.

Back on the boat, and though thoroughly charmed with Port Blair, its colourful wooden houses perched on hills with wandering goats by the roadside, it is the beaches and the water and the islands that we came to visit so once our administrative procedures were underway, we were happy to leave and further our exploration.

Iva