For seven days, Tovin and I waited for a Dominican sunset. You know, sun melting into the liquid horizon, clouds painting the sky, the kind of moment best appreciated to the tune of lapping waves with an ice-cold Presidente or heavily garnished cocktail in hand. For six nights we were thwarted.

The rainy season’s rolling clouds and sun would put on a show by day, but come evening, banks of heavy cumulo-somethings would take over. From the beaches of Samana Peninsula we’d shrug, Not today, I guess.

Then, on Day Seven, perched on a hill in the tiny town of Tubagua along the rustic Ruta Panoramica “highway,” we were rewarded for our patience. As we sat reading and chatting in our eco plantation’s open-walled restaurant, the Dominican sky finally put on the show we’d been hoping to see. Even without the waves or beer, it was perfect.