Blancaneaux is the kind of place that makes you feel as if you were being put up by your rich, eccentric uncle. Of course, he's merely your figurative uncle—unless you happen to be, say, Nicolas Cage. Yes, Francis Ford Coppola is the proprietor in question, and his tastes and travel loot pervade the place, where he's blended Central American textiles, Mexican curios, a Thai spa (with some of the best massage this side of the Mekong), and most recently, a Guatemalan restaurant to supplement the Italian fare already on offer at Montagna. The mix works beautifully, not least because of its setting: on the banks of a cascading river in the middle of a pine forest. Napping is a constant temptation, whether in one of the 19 breezy, thatch-roofed rooms or one of the innumerable hammocks hanging around. But then you'd miss the hiking, river swimming, and horseback riding on the property; not far away, you can survey jungle-shrouded ruins. Combine a trip here with a visit to Coppola's Turtle Inn for an abridged version of the best of Belize.

When vagabonding Brits Mick and Lucy Fleming happened upon the Cayo district's Chaa Creek, circa 1977, they thought an organic vegetable farm would be just the thing there. The project failed, but agriculture's loss was eco-tourism's gain. Having hosted guests even in the property's early days, the Flemings quickly understood the site's potential, and have since built 23 thatch-roofed, locally furnished cottages. Though there's something to recommend every room, stay in an airy (and aerie-like) Tree Top Jacuzzi suite, and you'll find yourself eye to eye with the denizens of the surrounding hardwoods' upper branches. When you come down from your perch, there's plenty to do on-site: hiking, mountain biking, canoeing, horseback riding—and the serious practice of sybaritism (at the eco-decadent spa, Mayan chocolate forms the basis for everything from a cocoa massage to a fondue wrap). Off-campus excursions include a trip to Actun Tunichil Muknal (a.k.a. "ATM," or Cave of the Stone Sepulcher).

Mata Chica is the anti-generic beach resort. Despite all the requisite trappings (a gorgeous stretch of white sand, iguanas that scuttle across it on cue, a generous endowment of gently swaying palms, and perfect margaritas), distinctiveness is what defines this remote corner of Ambergris Caye. Each of the 14 cabanas is painted its own sorbet-reminiscent shade. And the lobby aesthetic is essentially shabby chic meets Mesoamerican…at the Casbah. In the Moroccan-veil-draped, Guatemalan-pillow-strewn lounge area, a manager-cum-DJ spins a steady supply of world music for the guests who are invariably gathered there. Despite the full complement of activities on offer (diving, kayaking, biking), most people check in mainly to chill out. To that end, there are hammocks everywhere, a sweet restaurant, and a desert oasis–evoking spa tent.

A sister property to Blancaneaux Lodge, Turtle Inn is where Belize meets Bali (and a few other places). After the original structure—which Francis Ford Coppola had acquired and modified in 2000—succumbed to Hurricane Iris, the director built a new one to his exact specifications (and "personal joy") in 2003. The result: 25 rooms ranging from the Seaview Villas (private gardens, outdoor showers, Balinese woodwork) to the Chinese Matrimonial Suite (antique Chinese fertility bed, Chinese bath, screened-in porch), to the Pavilion House (private beach, steam shower, Japanese bath). Other sea-influenced attractions include the Mare restaurant (Italian, complete with Neapolitan brick pizza oven); the hotel's dive shop, which runs all manner of snorkeling and diving trips (Placencia is on the country's south coast, about 20 miles by boat from the reef); and a waterside spa.

Though the Caribbean is visible from much of this 42-room resort on Ambergris Caye, the open-air restaurant offers one of the best perspectives. Looking out toward the beach, you can't help but notice that the perfect shot has composed itself for you. Protruding from the sugary sand in the foreground are a palm that tilts just so and a handcarved wooden sign that reads "Welcome to Victoria House Bar." In the background: a thatch-roofed building (the resort's dive shop) on an otherwise empty jetty—and a seemingly color-corrected sea and sky. Except that these blues really exist. When you're not diving, swimming, snorkeling, or napping (rooms range from intimate stone-and-thatch casitas to family-size beachfront villas), head into town: San Pedro's restaurant- and bar-lined main drag is about a half hour away if you walk along the beach, or about 15 minutes by bike.