The rooms feature spacious bed and sitting rooms, and most look out on the sea. The landscaping is exquisite, with flower gardens and sculpted bushes. Almond and palm trees line a brick path, which is kept clear by a wizened Jamaican man who patrols with a straw broom. Beyond the Half Moon's border, though, it's immediately apparent that the fantasy inside bears little connection to the reality outside. Feeble-looking cattle wander over barren fields that once produced sugar.
Roads are poor, and much of the housing consists of shacks with corrugated-iron roofs.
The sense of desperation is palpable and discomfitting in Montego Bay, the northwest coastal city that is country's second largest after the capital, Kingston. You can find gifts or souvenirs, but it is the scene more than the goods that's worth seeing. Everywhere, though, the Jamaicans we met were garrulous and likable. Noticing my pregnant wife, a man named Clinton nudged me knowingly and asked if it was our first. He looked impressed at the affirmative answer.