Veiled in morning fog, the pyramid emerges, revealing a mystical structure more than 1,000 years old. Situated in a large grassy square surrounded by smaller structures and jungle, the pyramid’s grandeur towers above the gawking tourists below. Sweat drips from my forehead as the fog fades. With the sounds of birds around, few tourists have come here this early.

Voices, squeals, and laughter echo in the afternoon air as raindrops start to patter on the metal roof above. Girls and boys are scattered around the basketball court. A pack chases each other, dribbling a basketball. A lanky girl with hair pulled back in a ponytail squares up and shoots with great form, the ball bounces off the rim and away the pack goes. Two boys dart past, kicking a football at each other. Other kids are sitting, chattering away. This, for me, is another moment of holy cacophony, now manifest in a chorus of children.