Exploring Indonesia’s Spice Islands: A Cruise That Reveals “How the World Should Be”

Nestled in the remote expanse of Indonesia, the Spice Islands emerge from the Banda Sea, 1,200 miles northeast of Bali. These seemingly minor spots on a map, known as Maluku or the Moluccas, boast more than just lush tropical landscapes. Hidden within the dense forests are the remnants of formidable stone fortresses and fortified walls. Rusty cannons lay abandoned along the paths. Local children approached me, excitedly presenting handfuls of ancient coins they had discovered; I marveled at the date inscribed on the metal—1785—and the letters VOC, representing the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie, the Dutch East India Company of its era. These artifacts bear witness to a fierce struggle for wealth and power that dates back over five hundred years, when these islands were pivotal in the global spice trade, and nutmeg was more valuable than gold.

Beyond their historical significance, these steep volcanic islands are breathtakingly beautiful, part of the tectonically active Ring of Fire. The coastline presents a mix of rugged, lava-strewn shores and soft, sandy beaches or mangrove forests, with fishing and farming communities surrounding the gleaming dome of a mosque. Tin roofs peek out from the treetops. Some islands remain uninhabited or are home to a few wandering fishermen and perhaps a colony of red-footed boobies.

Post-pandemic, with many parts of Indonesia still seeing lower tourist numbers, now is an excellent time to explore this region (which has never been overly crowded). Flight and ferry services are gradually resuming across the country, and traditional wooden phinisi schooners, liveaboards, and motor yachts are restarting operations. I had the pleasure of joining the 196-foot Aqua Blu, a unique four-deck expedition yacht that offers individual cabins without the need for a full charter.

The seven-night Spice Islands itinerary is not something one could easily arrange on their own, as it involves coordinating ferry rides, hitching trips with fishermen, and struggling to find even basic lodging. Aqua Expeditions takes care of everything, providing stylish suites, an onboard library and spa, a dive club, and multiple sun decks. The attentive crew offers refreshing juices and Negronis throughout the day, while a talented kitchen crafts delicious dishes such as tuna ceviche with coconut and lime or beef rendang with shallots.

I departed from Jakarta and flew nearly four hours east to the island of Ambon, where Aqua Blu was anchored. The port resembled a scene from Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim, with aging tramp steamers, fishing boats, and motorized dugouts. I stood on the deck, observing the provisioning of the yacht while getting to know the crew and my fellow travelers: an elderly Frenchman fresh from diving in Raja Ampat; a multigenerational German family; a lively Spanish travel agent; and a group of British and French friends residing in Hong Kong and Singapore.

The itinerary for the upcoming week formed a figure-eight route around the Banda Sea, starting and ending in Ambon, the provincial capital, with several stops along the way. Our first destination was the northern coast of Ambon, where we explored Fort Amsterdam, which included a prison, gunpowder magazine, and watchtower. The impressive 400-year-old architecture stirred a sense of history, reminding me of the shadows cast by British and Dutch colonial rule. Ironically, next door stood one of Indonesia’s oldest churches, where perhaps the same officers who suppressed local resistance once prayed. Just a few streets away, I gazed through the window of Wapaue Mosque, a structure that dates back 800 years. It struck me that this thatched building was constructed closer to the time of Muhammad than to our present day. These islands seem to have been continuously exploited, taken from the hands of their native inhabitants.

We set sail southeast, leaving the land behind, with sonar readings showing depths of over three miles. Occasionally, we caught sight of a fisherman in his slender dugout, but there was little else to see. The sea was tranquil, resembling a lake more than an ocean, which is precisely why Aqua Blu visits during this brief season in October and November. The winds die down, and the waters calm, providing smooth sailing and effortless shore excursions.

Outside of this time frame, the winds blow steadily and reliably, a factor that contributed to the area’s historical significance. Chinese and Arab traders, followed by the Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, and English, exploited these trade winds to transport their goods, their holds filled with Chinese silks, Indian cottons, Arabic coffee, East African ivory, and, of course, spices. These spices were sought for more than just flavoring and preservation; during the bubonic plague in Europe, they were believed to possess protective qualities and even potential cures. When European nobles learned that nutmeg might act as an aphrodisiac and hallucinogen, its worth skyrocketed.

There’s something magical about sailing overnight, always on the move, even while I sleep, waking up in a new and undiscovered place. By morning, we had arrived in the naturally protected harbor at Banda Neira. On the starboard side, the nearly perfect volcanic cone of Gunung Api rose majestically, while down by the water, Aqua Blu had arranged for a captivating display featuring kora-kora war canoes, manned by villagers who chanted and drummed in celebration. The air was filled with the enticing aroma of nutmeg, reminiscent of Christmas.

On land, I wandered through the charming port, characterized by a maze of streets lined with crumbling colonial mansions, a bustling fish market, boat-building workshops, and smokehouses dedicated to drying spices. The island’s inhabitants reflect its rich trading history; I met an Indonesian man with the surname Van Den Broek and Mita Alwi, the owner of the Maulana hotel, who has Yemeni and Chinese ancestry spanning generations. She is striving to ensure these islands do not fade into obscurity by chairing the Banda Heritage and Cultural Foundation, along with a higher education institute established by her grandfather, which currently serves 600 students. “At times, I feel hopeful that we will be remembered, that our identity won’t be lost,” Mita confessed, “but there are moments when I feel hopeless.”

Remarkably, there are up to five Dutch-built forts in the area, a testament to the stakes involved. Some of these structures have succumbed to the ravages of nature, while others remain standing, like the formidable pentagon-shaped Fort Belgica, complete with impressive turrets and 30-foot-thick walls. Locals claim the mortar is a mix of sand, chalk, and egg whites—an effective combination that has withstood centuries of earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, and typhoons.

On the nearby island of Banda Besar, I toured the world’s oldest nutmeg plantations, observing locals skillfully climb trees to harvest the yellow downy pods, splitting them open to reveal the seed (nutmeg) and its vibrant red aril (mace). I met Solomon, a farmer whose wise words mirrored the lines of his weathered face and tired body. “I have a few trees, just enough,” he shared, mentioning that he learned English through the radio. “Honestly, I don’t require much food, just a clean heart. Money doesn’t bring happiness—only peace and grandchildren do.” I found myself mentally nodding in agreement; he had clearly outsmarted me in the most delightful way.

It was here, 400 years ago, that the Dutch executed the massacre of 2,500 Bandanese, with mercenaries carrying out the killings; those who survived were either sold into slavery or forced to flee. At the time the VOC arrived, the Banda Islands had a population of about 15,000; a decade or so later, that number had plummeted to 600. Interestingly, when I inquired with locals about their tumultuous past, they expressed no resentment. In fact, they all showed support for the Netherlands during the soccer World Cup.

Before departing, we explored the third island in this group, Banda Api, where we dove into the lava flow that descends the slopes of Gunung Api into the sea. An eruption in 1988 devastated the reefs here, but the coral recovery was surprisingly rapid, attributed to the nutrient-rich volcanic debris. This young reef now boasts an unusually high diversity and abundance of marine life. I swam down to the seabed, where I observed tiny gas bubbles escaping and pressed my hand into the sand to feel the warmth of the Earth.

This area's remarkable biodiversity was documented almost 200 years ago by the famed British naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace, who was a contemporary of Charles Darwin. He noted that the Banda Sea housed more species of fish than all the rivers and seas of Europe combined. This region plays a vital role in the theory of evolution by natural selection. While Darwin was working across the Pacific, Wallace undertook 70 expeditions over eight years here, collecting over 125,000 specimens. He was the one who communicated with Darwin, sparking the concept of 'survival of the fittest,' which he described as an idea that 'suddenly flashed upon him' while he suffered from a fever, likely malaria. Like the Galápagos, this region is celebrated for its unique species and biodiversity.

We headed south toward the smoldering crater of Pulau Manuk. As our small boat navigated the island's edge, I observed a lively group of red-footed, masked, and brown boobies frolicking on the steep volcanic slopes. While clumsy on land, they awkwardly scrambled along the rugged ground. Some were engaging in their lively courtship displays, so extravagant they appeared almost comical. Yet, once airborne, these birds transformed into graceful creatures, exuding strength; I witnessed one dive from 60 feet, folding its wings back against its elongated body, its robust bill piercing the ocean. Boobies can plunge 30 feet underwater to snatch fish, swallowing them whole.

In addition to its noisy seabird colonies, Pulau Manuk is nicknamed the 'island of snakes' due to the presence of thick-necked olive and black-and-white banded sea snakes; the venom of the latter is neurotoxic, making it one of the most dangerous marine creatures. During a dive, I watched them glide through the water, occasionally raising into S-shaped formations, yet none appeared to mind me or my fellow divers. An hour later, gasping for air, I surfaced to see the skies filled with aerobatic tropicbirds, graceful brown noddies, and soaring frigatebirds, their silhouettes reminiscent of pterodactyls. Floating in the water between the ocean and the sky, surrounded by such vibrant wildlife, it served as a powerful reminder of how the world is meant to be.