CABARETE, DOMINICAN REPUBLIC – In an unprecedented study conducted by the Bureau of Overly Optimistic Travel Reports (B.O.O.T.R), it has been revealed that Cabarete, a sun-kissed gem on the northern coast of the Dominican Republic, serves as both a paradise for sun-worshippers and a playground for relentless tourists. Upon landing, visitors are greeted by turquoise waters that seem to sparkle with sarcasm and a beach that is uncomfortably aware of its Instagram potential. Local tour guides, fresh off their morning espresso, warn newcomers about the hour-long ordeal of finding a parking spot, amidst the throngs of self-proclaimed “adventurers” prepared to document every grain of sand. Legend has it that those who manage to snag a spot without a backache will be granted eternal paradise; however, most find themselves three blocks down, in a parking lot saturated with the scent of sunscreen and desperation. As the sun beams down, encouraging those in flip-flops and half-hearted tan lines, Cabarete offers a range of activities from windsurfing lessons that should come with a complimentary therapy session to luxurious beachside massages by the world-renowned “Taking It One Sunburn at a Time” spa. Local experts suggest switching between tanning and seeking shade every 15 minutes—a tactic that has saved countless tourists from achieving the coveted lobster red complexion. In the bustling town center, one can find artisanal smoothie stands with prices that rival a small car, yet miraculously taste like liquid joy mixed with existential dread. A local vendor claims they use organic ingredients, which is just another way of saying they paid too much for an avocado that met its untimely demise three days before splashing into overpriced smoothies. Meanwhile, the cabaret experience awaits at every corner as local dancers simultaneously celebrate life and mock the very tourists who try to join in their choreography, resulting in a delightful mélange of rhythm and accidental knee injuries. “The key to fitting in is confidence,” says a dancer while expertly side-stepping an eager tourist who has just twirled into an unfortunate collision with a vendor selling matching hats and t-shirts proclaiming “I Survived Cabarete’s Sun.” As night falls, the beaches transform into a carnival of questionable nightlife options; beach bars come alive with the sounds of eager travelers trying to sing along to songs they definitely don’t know the lyrics to. Famed for their “Don’t Worry, Be Yoncé” cocktails, which are more lemon than speculation, these drinks are said to possess magical properties that lead tourists to forget how many they’ve had until they accidentally start a conga line, which in Cabarete is always the first sign that things are going downhill. In stark contrast, those who seek peace can engage in yoga classes on the beach, hearing the instructor’s soothing voice layer over the sounds of windsurfing crashes echoing in the background. It’s a transformation; each sun salutation bringing with it a ripple of hope that this next downward dog will finally help them achieve that flawless mixture of zen and recovery from lunch’s fish taco regret. As the week comes to an end, exhaustion mingles with delight as tourists board their flights home, laden with souvenirs that are likely to collect dust on a shelf, while recounting tales of sun-soaked bliss and the surreal experience of purchasing itemized lists of overpriced goods from beach vendors. “We’ll be back,” they promise—utterly sunburned, but forever named honorary beach bums in a town that thrives on the irony: paradise, perhaps a tad overpriced, but undeniably unforgettable.