At long last, a cruise ship designed for people who hate cruises

Ritz-Carlton launched its entry into the world of cruising in 2022 after years of false starts and COVID-related delays. I read about its progress carefully because it seemed that while every other ship was getting bigger and more elaborate, Ritz-Carlton, owned by Marriott, was bucking the trend by making theirs smaller and more minimal. It’s also intent on calling its ships yachts. The definition of a yacht is fuzzy enough that the Ritz-Carlton can get away with it, but clearly, it’s about status. And if you’re paying $5,000 for a cruise (my Caribbean cruise was $5,300), telling your friends that you’re yachting seems appropriate.

During my Caribbean jaunt, there were a few times when I heard the crew slip and say “ship” before correcting themselves and saying “yacht.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. The staff of the Evrima did not know a travel writer was on board, and the Globe received no freebies or special treatment. I wanted to experience the Evrima like any other Jane Dough or Milburn Pennybags on the ship — I mean yacht.

No matter what it’s called, the Evrima is a wholly different species from other ships, beginning with the passenger count. It can hold 298 passengers (most small luxury ships carry between 700 to 2,000). My cruise was full, but the ship never felt crowded, and I often wondered if it was really sold out. I never had a problem finding a lounge chair at the pool or getting a table for dinner.

The most striking difference I found between Evrima and other ships was the onboard culture. There were no water slides, casinos, buffets, or Broadway shows. The Evrima is akin to a chic boutique hotel where you’d go to unwind without distractions. It’s designed for Ritz-Carlton loyalists, or folks who want to be in a posh hotel that happens to sail into different ports.

There’s a small infinity pool and hot tubs rather than a giant central swimming pool on the 624-foot yacht. There are even tucked-away areas on outside decks that you can seek out for a bit of privacy. Common areas, such as a main gathering called the Living Room, still felt intimate.

There are excursions off the ship, but when you’re on board, no cruise directors are dragging you to limbo contests or haranguing passengers over the PA about upcoming bingo games. It’s very much a place to escape rather than be pulled into the candy-colored machinations of a big cruise ship.

There’s a fair amount of chatter about the Evrima in online cruise forums, and the biggest complaints are from those who book expecting a full, traditional cruise experience. This will sound odd, but if you’re a regular cruiser who enjoys the flash and action of a ship, or you like your days jammed with nonstop activities planned by others, I’d say to steer clear of the Evrima. There are activities such as wine tastings, gourmet cooking challenges, and mixology classes, but no mini golf or pickleball.

What it lacks in conventional activities, it more than makes up for in an area called the Marina. When the yacht is anchored, the back deck on level three becomes a place to relax in the sun, jump into the water, snorkle, or kayak. It’s unlike any other cruise ship because you’re in relatively shallow water and you have full access to the ocean (depending on conditions). One day when the ship was in a lackluster port, I stayed onboard and hung out at the Marina. I went kayaking and snorkeling right off the back of the ship. It was the most yacht-like experience of the cruise.

I don’t mean to paint the environment on the Evrima as staid or anti-social. I was pulled into multiple birthday celebrations by complete strangers who became close friends by the end of the trip. Several of these celebrations lasted late into the night in the Observation Lounge, which was the venue on the 10th deck that stayed open past midnight. I suppose it didn’t hurt that the staff poured Moët & Chandon champagne like it was water. There’s no upcharge for alcohol (unless you have a taste for $2,500 spirits). There’s also no extra charges for internet or gratuities.

The Evrima is made up entirely of suites, all of them with balconies, that range in size from 300 square feet to 1,091 square feet. Most of the suites, aside from the entry-level Terrace suite, have bathtubs. These are cruise ship rooms that feel like hotel rooms, down to the king beds. Many of those who work in service on the ship come from the hotel world rather than other cruise ships, and their demeanor was just as friendly and professional.

• Small, easy-to-navigate ship
• Gourmet food
• Laidback, relaxing atmosphere
• Large suites with beautiful interiors

• Price
• Limited onboard activities
• Limited laundry facilities for guests
• Not ideal for families with small children

But people come on ships for the cuisine, and, as you may expect, the food on the Evrima is sophisticated. There are five restaurants (six if you count the bakery at the espresso bar), plus 24-hour room service. As a reporter, it was my duty to try them all. Even at the casual, all-day restaurant, the Pool House, you could get ceviche or a salmon poke bowl. They didn’t just serve burgers, there was a build-your-own-burger.

The Mediterranean-influenced restaurant Mistral offered options such as lobster linguine, several cuts of steak, and grilled octopus. Most passengers I chatted with spent the majority of their dining time at Mistral or Talaat Nam, the sushi restaurant. (I fell deeply in love with the mango sticky rice at Talaat Nam.) The all-purpose restaurant, called the Evrima Room, served breakfast and dinner. I mostly had breakfast here, and primarily for the orange juice, which was freshly squeezed.

The only restaurant on board with an extra charge is called S.E.A. It features a tasting menu and wine pairing created by three-Michelin-star chef Sven Elverfeld. For an additional $289, I enjoyed eight courses (maybe it was nine, it got blurry with the wine). Most were petite portions packed with flavor, such as raw and marinated yellowfin tuna and Japanese wagyu. I felt as if I was eating art for a night.

On the last night of my Caribbean cruise, I decided to ask other passengers their take on the ship. Did they think they had gotten their money’s worth? I went to the Observation Lounge where all the evening’s revelry was taking place, but clearly I was too late for serious answers. Jane, one of the many birthday celebrants, had pulled everyone onto the dance floor. I tried asking: “Was it worth it?” The reply was a champagne-scented chorus of “You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only 17.”

I took that as a yes.

Christopher Muther can be reached at christopher.muther@globe.com. Follow him @Chris_Muther and Instagram @chris_muther.