A day later, on my way to Negril’s West End — after my debit card was “eaten” by a Scotiabank A.T.M. at a Kingston shopping mall and after putting up with unreliable land transport — I wasn’t sure I would ever have a great day in Jamaica, or worse, that I would ever feel that inexplicable connection to the island that I had felt in Antigua and San Juan and Havana.  Two hours down the Norman Manley Highway south to Negril, flashing by speeding bicyclists and motorcyclists, herds of baby goats, bold-paint wood-and-tin homes and the open sea, Jamaica began to work its charms on me.  Then, there was Negril’s West End and the Rockhouse Hotel. Magic!  It was visually fabulous with flowers in bloom, bougainvillea vines and almond trees, and shaded winding paths that led to hexagonal thatched-roofed villas of timber and stone looking out to the sea. At a glance, Rockhouse lived up to its reputation, one of the loveliest boutique hotels in the Caribbean.  But extreme contrasts are inevitable in Jamaica. Across the road from Rockhouse’s fancy gift shop, several ramshackle souvenir shops sold typical tourist wares — T-shirts, flimsy dresses, scarfs, hats and trinkets — and a short ride from the eco-centric serenity of Rockhouse, hundreds of tourists flocked to Rick’s Café, a boisterous bar-restaurant-music hangout with a cliff-diving show, super bars and sensational sunsets.  I checked out the scene one afternoon, tried to get a bar stool but gave up fighting the crowd. A singer was dancing on the stage, and people swilling from paper cups clapped to the rhythm. Soon, rather suddenly, as it does in the tropics, the sun went down, and with that the party broke up. The crowd streamed out, pushing and shoving. Tour buses, vans and taxis packed with riders lumbered out of the parking lot. It was a crazy scene, as crazy as Negril’s infamous boat parties and bar shuttles.  That evening at the Rockhouse, I was having a drink and chatting with an American couple who came back every year, had married and honeymooned there. Even with its high occupancy rate, the hotel opens its restaurants to the public. Expats living in Negril make it their club, where you might meet old-time hippies in sandals like Janet, a blustery San Franciscan who married a local 27 years ago and is building a house with a swimming pool on a hill.  At the bar of the main restaurant, which doubles as a community center with easy chairs and sofas, books and the only TV in the resort, a small group of women was cracking jokes about the risqué show at the Jungle nightclub on Ladies Night Out. They’d come from Alberta, Canada, and were letting loose and splurging on cocktails, crispy fried snapper and crème brûlée.  Early morning, I was on a sleep cloud, tucked in on a pillowed four-poster bed, a slow ceiling fan ruffling a pinned-up muslin mosquito net. Jumping off the bed, I opened the shuttered doors to my private deck. The roiling sea melded with the distant blurry horizon, and I watched as a small boat with a single passenger, man or woman I couldn’t tell, heaved and tossed in the rough sea. Waves leapt, crashed and spat foam maybe 50 feet high against the Rockhouse cliffs. From somewhere on the nearby road drifted the lilting music you hear everywhere you go in Jamaica, the soundtrack of the island.  Later, only a 15-minute drive away, I was dipping my feet in the sea, strolling along the popular (and overbuilt) Seven-Mile Beach. The fluffy white-sand strip was crowded already. Tourists were ensconced in lounge chairs, their bodies laid out to toast. A rangy vendor with dreadlocks, hollow cheeks and bony legs followed me, dangling a bunch of bananas in one hand and clutching a plastic sack containing who knows what. Peddlers and hustlers are a plague all over Jamaica, but this guy didn’t push it. When I said “no” politely, he backed off.  Grateful, I picked up my walk on the lumpy wet sand. The sea sloshed around my feet, splashing my legs. Glass-bottom boats and fishing charters swayed in shallow waters, waiting to take divers and snorkelers to the coral reefs and grottoes that make this Jamaica’s dreamiest coast.  I had been in Jamaica five days, and finally I was steeping myself in the singsong and blithe spirit of the island.  My trip was now winding down, and I returned to Montego Bay to the Half Moon resort. Half Moon was a palace, elegant, serene, welcoming. Queen Elizabeth II has stayed there and Prince Philip and the Prince of Wales and John and Jackie Kennedy, and countless movie stars and celebrities, honeymooners and lovers on a fling. It is a once-in-a-lifetime place.  I had a few hours left, so I went out to the sun, ordered a gin and tonic at the beachside Cedar Bar, and found a lounge chair near a gaggle of young Brits, Virgin Atlantic crew members on a two-day layover. That evening they had a party and wanted me to go along. I had other plans. I had a predawn wake-up call to catch my flight out.  After a wonderful dinner outdoors at the hotel, I took my time going through Seagrape Terrace, where guests had gathered for a musical nightcap with a Jamaican singer. I listened for a while and walked down the beach. In the distance I thought I heard the familiar words, “One love, one heart, let’s get together and be all right.”  Daily rates, shown in U.S. dollars, may change seasonally and do not include taxes and fees. Ask about all-inclusive rates when you book.  The Half Moon, host to royalty and celebrities over its 60-year history, lives up to its reputation as one of the Caribbean’s most prestigious resorts with a pristine beach, plantation-style cottages, shops and a golf course. Rooms start at $299 in peak season; suites at $524; villas go up to $3,000. Rose Hall, Montego Bay; 1-876-953-2211; halfmoon.rockresorts.com.  Rockhouse Hotel, one of the loveliest boutique hotels in the Caribbean, stretches across the rocky cliffs of Negril’s West End. Stone and timber rooms have thatched roofs, private decks and lush gardens. Rooms from $180 in peak season; villas at $450. West End Road, Negril; 1-876-957-4373; rockhousehotel.com.  GoldenEye has one- and two-story huts. Near Ocho Rios; one-bedroom from $1,400 in peak season; 1-876-622-9007; goldeneye.com.  Spanish Court in Kingston attracts a business clientele and tourists. Rooms from $179. 1 St. Lucia Avenue; 1-876-926-0000; spanishcourthotel.com.  Rockhouse Restaurant & Bar, which serves fusion Euro-American-Jamaican dishes, has some of the best food on the island.Pushcart, also at the Rockhouse Hotel, specializes in jerk dishes, grilled spice-rubbed meats, fish and poultry cooked over an outdoor grill.  Il Giardino, at Half Moon resort, mixes the flavors of Italy with Jamaican tastes; 1-888-830-5974.  Redbones Blues Cafe, a restaurant, bar and live-music venue, is a Kingston fixture. 1 Argyle Road; 1-876-978-6091; redbonesbluescafe.com.  Grog Shoppe, a onetime servants’ quarters at Devon House, serves Jamaican specialties and American staples. 26 Hope Road; 1-876-929-6602; devonhousejamaica.com.  Weddy Weddy Wednesdays and other nightly free outdoor sound system parties, a mix of block party, dance-offs, fashion shows and stereo wars. Parties start around 11 p.m. For listings, check with the front desk at your hotel or the Friday issue of The Observer.  Tracks & Records, sports-music bar owned by the Olympics champion Usain Bolt. 67 Constant Spring Road; 1-876-906-3903.  Famous, mecca of dance hall culture. Gerbera Avenue, Portmore; 1-876-988-8801; www.facebook.com/FamousNightclubJa.  Red Stripe Reggae Sumfest is the island’s premier reggae festival, held every year in late July; reggaesumfest.com.  Pier One, an open-air restaurant and music venue on a dock, is a favorite of stylish locals and foreigners. Howard Cooke Boulevard; 1-876-286-7208; www.pieronejamaica.com.  Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville is one of the most popular clubs in MoBay. Gloucester Avenue; margaritavillecaribbean.com.  Sandals is Negril’s night-life emporium with theme nights and shows. Norman Manley Boulevard; sandals.com.  Jungle,Negril’s one big nightclub outside the all-inclusive resorts, has top D.J.s and two large dance floors. Norman Manley Boulevard.  Luisita Lopez Torregrosa, a journalist and author, is a professor at Fordham University and a former editor at The New York Times. She last wrote about Puerto Rico in the Travel section.  A version of this article appears in print on April 3, 2016, on page TR1 of the New York edition with the headline: Searching for the Soul of Jamaica. Order Reprints| Today's Paper|Subscribe
The nation is recasting itself as a glamour and eco-tourism destination, but its African-inflected culture is what lulls you.