Over the years, I’ve had many friends insist they’re simply not cruise people, which always makes me think that they just haven’t found the right ship yet. I usually steer those travelers toward smaller vessels and private charters, on which they can enjoy the pleasures of sailing without the drawbacks of a floating metropolis. The 452-passenger Ritz-Carlton Luminara purports to have it all by combining the amenities of a larger ship with the personalized luxury of a private yacht. This summer, my travel companion and I were two of the first guests to try the ship’s Mediterranean sailings before its relocation to the Pacific Rim, where it will spend summers in Alaska and winters in Asia.

After a quick and remarkably smooth boarding process, we were shown to our 417-square-foot Signature Suite with its spacious living area, small dining room and king bedroom. The terrace, outfitted with a table and chair plus two loungers, was an ideal hangout (all cabins have terraces). I also appreciated the his-and-hers walk-in closets. Yet the suite lacked character. Dressed in muted neutrals, it sometimes looked more like part of an elevated airport lounge than a luxury liner.

Public spaces followed suit, with décor that seemed almost aggressively inoffensive. Inexplicably, few of them afforded proper water views. In the Living Room café, where musicians performed nightly, tenders blocked the windows. The Art Bar, one of our favorite venues on board, offered a dramatic wall of glass at the bow, but even that framed only the outdoor seating, not the open sea.

Restaurants proved a highlight of the sailing. In an effort to distance themselves from stereotypical cruise culture, the Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection has eliminated buffets entirely, which I rather missed at breakfast. Still, the food was outstanding. A carbonara I ordered for lunch one day, for example, was better than almost any I’ve had outside Rome itself. I also appreciated the daily-changing menus, though the staff couldn’t always keep up with them. Simple questions occasionally flustered servers: I inadvertently caused a minor commotion by asking whether an appetizer was served hot or cold!

Haesu Bit was my favorite dinner venue, where chefs executed exquisite pan-Asian dishes. I’m still thinking about the cold sesame noodles with crab, which are reason enough for me to book another sailing. Surprisingly, Seta Su, where the multicourse tasting menu and wine pairing incur an extra charge, served our only mediocre meal. Dishes tended to be a touch oversalted, and too often, they used expensive ingredients like caviar and wagyu as crutches.

In another attempt to set itself apart, Ritz-Carlton included no casino and no nightclub. True to its name, the Luminara is not big on nightlife. One evening, we went in search of an after-dinner drink only to find the Art Bar completely deserted. Downstairs in the Living Room, a band performed downbeat Beatles covers to a silent crowd.

But fun certainly wasn’t absent: a White Party transformed the pool deck into a swanky soirée, complete with Champagne, canapés and a local band that coaxed people onto the dance floor. Most passengers were couples in their 40s and 50s, though we met a few memorable exceptions: a Victoria’s Secret model and her entourage, a genial pecan broker from Georgia and his wife and a glamorous solo traveler with a mysterious accent who dressed exclusively in couture and diamonds. Nearly everyone I met on board was a first-time cruiser already planning their next Ritz-Carlton voyage.

Editor Photos (slideshow below)

Daily life on board was blissfully languorous. On our full day at sea, I spent the morning in the spa, enjoying the steam room and sauna before indulging in a massage in a treatment room with its own open-air terrace. In the afternoon, waiters wandered the ship with magnums of rosé while we chatted with new friends at the stern’s infinity pool and plotted a reunion on a future sailing. All the problems we’d encountered so far were minor, and our cares drifted away.

My only major disappointment was the Marina, a floating “beach club” that extends from the stern. On the first day it opened, we learned we weren’t actually allowed to swim freely off the boat. Instead, inflatable docks enclosed an area the size of a kiddie pool. We headed ashore to swim at a beach club. Other passengers echoed our frustrations. One family cut their shore excursion short to use the Marina one day, only to find it had closed early due to wind. No one bothered to inform passengers. Another couple was reprimanded for attempting to circumnavigate the ship in one of the kayaks.

Since this was one of the Luminara’s earliest sailings, the few service hiccups were forgivable. Housekeeping was meticulous, and every staff member — from bartenders to tender captains to maintenance personnel — was unfailingly warm and helpful. My traveling companion burst into tears when it was time to say goodbye to our room stewards.

Ritz-Carlton goes out of its way to proclaim that its three vessels are yachts, but the Luminara is unquestionably a cruise ship — albeit one that’s more akin to a luxury resort than a 5,000-passenger floating amusement park. Regardless of whether they’re yachts or ships (one mustn’t ever say “boats”), I’d be delighted to sail with Ritz-Carlton again.

This cruise was provided on a complimentary basis to our editor.

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