Yes, there is the familiar Caribbean image. Turquoise water that almost looks edited. Palms bending toward the shoreline. Sun that kisses your shoulders whether you asked for it or not. That atmosphere lingers whether the sky is brilliant blue or briefly washed in tropical rain.

But beneath that beauty are distinct identities.

Amber Cove showed us how tourism can reshape a community and spark renewal beyond the dock. St. Kitts carried its history along steel rails once used for sugar cane, now repurposed to tell a different story. In Puerto Rico, we saw residents rally to protect their island’s feral cats. In Martinique, we stepped into the historic Bibliothèque Schoelcher, whose ornate details reminded us that Caribbean culture is layered and complex.

Both Mr. Whaldo and I were lucky enough to handle a large female who felt safe with us and rested easily on our arms. We held one together and also separately. The ray I held on my own seemed especially comfortable and lifted her beak onto my chest, as if to get a better look at me. She allowed me to gently boop her before calmly swimming back to her favorite wrangler.

We also had the opportunity to feed them squid, which they happily sucked from our hands. This was another carefully taught lesson, designed to keep us from earning any stingray hickies on our fingers, hands, or arms.