There you are, tucked under a thatched roof in a villa perched above a waterfall. You’re in bed, surrounded by candlelight, snuggled next to your sweetheart. It couldn’t be more romantic, but all you can think is, The horror. The horror.
It might be impossible to stay at the Family Coppola Hideaways in Belize without feeling just a little like a pampered extra in a very luxurious, pyrotechnics- and severed-head-free version of Apocalypse Now. To complete the image, I watched the movie and then the documentary about the making of the movie, and I was about to queue up Platoon and Full Metal Jacket when it occurred to me that enough was enough.
Besides, there were caves to spelunk, waterfalls to traverse, horses to ride, and 10-story Mayan ruins to climb, heart in your throat. Adventure travel is not lying in a bed, checking off a Letterboxd list of Vietnam War spectaculars, as exhilarating as that is.
Of Francis Ford Coppola’s retreats in Belize, Blancaneaux Lodge in the rainforest is an excellent place to start, especially if your skin is dry. It just might be the most humid place on earth.
Coppola bought it in 1981 as a family getaway after his wife, Eleanor, suggested there might be a more convenient alternative to his first choice, the Philippines, where he filmed Apocalypse Now. They turned the property into a resort in the 1990s, maintaining its casual intimacy.
The villas have an open living room kitted out with a hammock, a telescope, a conch shell hiding an intercom to the front desk (they call it the “Shell Phone.” Get it?), and a mini-fridge filled with smooth, delightful Coppola wines. The feeling is dark, tropical, and immensely comforting.
This is not The White Lotus. The guests don’t lie around the pool all day ordering colorful drinks (although they could), and the indulgences are just enough without numbing you into a coddled stupor. Instead, everyone ambles into breakfast wearing top-to-toe REI before heading out with the various guides. One, Geronimo, took us to Caracol, the largest ruin in Belize, and rattled off endless facts about Mayan civilization while scurrying up the treacherously steep, moss-covered steps like he was Rocky Balboa.
After the day’s adventures, there are facials with Monastery oils, a Sofia Coppola favorite, and one of the best Thai massages of my life, from a master who comes directly from Bangkok. His movements are so gracefully connected and assured that they seem choreographed. As you’re stretched and rocked, you might wonder if the birdsong is piped in from a spa playlist. Open your eyes and glance at any tree, and you’ll see the evidence. Look, there’s a toucan!
The sprawling organic gardens are a source of pride at Blancaneaux, where every scrap is turned into compost. The neat rows are lush with lettuces, herbs, peppers, and eggplants; the trees are heavy with mangoes, grapefruits, tangerines, and sapodilla, a fruit that looks like a large kiwi, tastes like pear, and has a white sap that could double as glue. A nightly cocktail hour in the garden is followed by a vegetarian dinner under fairy lights. You might wake up the next morning and wonder if it was all a dream.
The main restaurant serves mostly Italian food—for obvious Coppola reasons—including a long menu of well-blistered wood-oven pizzas. But my favorite meal was the coconut shrimp and rice at the homey Guatemalan restaurant.
Three hours or so southeast by car is Turtle Inn, another Coppola property, which looks much like Blancaneaux if you flatten the topography and replace the jungle with the beach. This is where the family visits most often—Sofia spent months holed up here writing Priscilla during the coronavirus lockdown—and their villas are available for rent.
There’s no gym on either property, but who needs to exercise indoors when there’s paddleboarding and kayaking, hiking and biking, and marlin- and bonefishing to test your biceps? This is a diver’s paradise; the Belize Barrier Reef, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is second only to Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. It impressed even Jacques Cousteau. But you don’t need to be an oceanographer or even a certified diver to experience its wonders. With just snorkel gear, I swam near nurse sharks, kicked past barracudas, and touched the thick shell of a sea turtle while stingrays glided beneath me. There were countless colored fish, and with each sighting, Nelson, our guide, surfaced to name them. He neatly speared a lobster hidden in the reef and, on a deserted island, grilled it with a squeeze of lemon for a perfect lunch.
You can also do absolutely nothing besides wander over to the spa for an excellent facial, again by Monastery, complete with a red-light mask, along with a variety of massages and scrubs. If you happen to have a sullen teenager in your midst, send them to the on-site recording studio, where they can lay down some tracks and, fingers crossed, start earning their keep. Or let them do some damage at the gift shop, which clearly shows the Sofia Coppola touch, with Lemlem beach dresses and a small collection of excellent books.
Everything seems deeply personal at the Coppola Family Hideaways, and by the end of your visit, you may feel as if Francis, Sofia, Roman, Gia, and the gang are whispering in your ear, urging you gently to open your eyes, look around, and pay attention to this rich, astonishing world. It’s right there outside your door.
Linda Wells is the Editor at Air Mail Look
