A national park in Belize has deep roots in Mayan healing traditions.
We use it like a brush to remove all of the negativity, Garcia said.
You give all thats not good to the plant and the plant gives you its energy.
From left: Sunrise over Elijio Panti National Park, in Belize; a cabana at Gaïa Riverlodge.Credit:From left: ROBERT RAUSCH/The New York Times/Redux; Adrien Williams/Courtesy of Gaia Riverlodge and Belize Tourism
Bordering Guatemala, Cayo was in ancient times a center of Mayan civilization.
The park went into abandonment, Garcia said.
When she finished, she handed me the foliage.
Healer Maria Garcia conducts a Mayan sunset ceremony.ROBERT RAUSCH/The New York Times/Redux
This is your bundle, she said.
You have to release it when the sun is setting.
Go down to the riverside and do like this.
From left: The restaurant terrace at Gaïa Riverlodge; Privassion Creek, which flows past Gaïa Riverlodge.From left: Courtesy of Gaia Riverlodge and Belize Tourism; Adrien Williams/Courtesy of Gaia Riverlodge and Belize Tourism
She mimed throwing the bundle over her shoulder.
But dont look back.
Do it with your heart and the night will take care of it.
From left: Tamales at the San Antonio Women’s Cooperative; El Castillo pyramid.From left: Courtesy of San Antonio Women’s Cooperative; Courtesy of Belize Tourism
My cabana, with its soaring palm-thatched roof, clung to a hillside covered in tropical vegetation.
Each morning, I woke to the musical trills of rusty sparrows and hepatic tanagers.
Last winter, he and his colleagues encountered three poachers during a routine patrol.
That made a huge impact in the community, Kenny said.
Since then, we havent seen any trace of hunters.
Caves were sacred to the ancient Maya, who saw them as portals to Xibalba, the underworld.
It took us about 45 minutes to reach the trailhead.
Rangers navigate the rugged rainforest roads on motorbikes, but in Kennys truck, the going was slow.
A short hike led to a series of terraces that Mai said the ancient Maya used for public gatherings.
Only priests could enter the caves; everyone else congregated outside.
It was like modern times, Kenny said.
If you were wealthy, you could afford a better view.
If not, you were way in the back.
When we reached the caves entrance, I gasped at its enormity.
Donning a helmet with a powerful headlamp, I followed Mai into the darkness.
Cave moths clung to the walls, their tiny eyes glittering in my lamps beam.
The papery flutter of bats wings echoed through the gloom.
We ducked beneath a curtain of stalactites and entered a small alcove.
In one corner, fires from ancient rituals had left the limestone ceiling blackened by soot.
Pottery fragments, including the top half of a massive ceramic vessel, lay scattered across the dirt floor.
One morning I paddled the Macal River, a meandering waterway the Maya navigated by canoe.
Brushed with coconut oil and sprinkled with salt, the tender tortillas tasted both sweet and savory.
I clutched the bouquet and said a word of gratitude.
Closing my eyes, I tossed the bundle behind me.
A version of this story first appeared in the February 2025 issue ofTravel + Leisureunder the headline Kindred Spirits.
