The shrimp plantation is on the outskirts of Ladyville, with over a half mile of his private road connecting it to the town streets. This was dry season and I can only imaging what it must be like in rainy season.

February 26:

The entire Charlie's plantation was huge with 9 ponds, stocked with 5 million shrimp, there were dry canals cut for a subdivision and an entire salt water circulation system. Every time I think I have seen all of it another facet would appear to Charlie's Kingdom.

The plantation is roughly sa mile square and was low lying jungle scrub before Charlie came. The shrimp ponds are aligned in two rows with the reservoir (moat) running along the west edge of the property. Most of the shrimp processing and support takes place along this western flank. The road back is noticabley better and even the Mercedes can make it back to the shrimp cleaning station. Roughly a half mile back from the house on the way to the pump house was the shrimp cleaning station. Here friendly native women clean and behead shrimp from dawn until close to dusk.

February 27:

More windows and I got my first helper who was far more trouble than he was ever worth and set a bad tone. The days work labored as he spent far too much time trying to do nothing. By days end I was fed up only to find that someone on my watch had stolen a worm drive skill saw. Oh boy that set Charlie off and taught me just how complacent that I had become in Ontario.

Fired the kid. Good riddance. Today I got Carlos who is a far different story. He is a good worker and understands my English well making my job far easier. Today sanding began in Ernest. A task that will go on for weeks.

The old 4X4 Dodge I am driving as my work wheels finally died with a front wheel bearing rolling off onto the road, taking the brake line with it on the way back. As fate would have it I was approaching a very narrow one truck lane bridge with an opposing large lorry dead ahead when I noticed the lack of brakes.

It is now the dry season in Belize and Charlie fired up his old grader and spent the afternoon knocking down some of the roughest spots. Everywhere you look there are remains of dead equipment rusting in the tropical sun.

I know I swore to live native but I would love to see some recognizable meat cooked somehow other than at the bottom of a pot covered with soup of the day or fried chicken

February 28:

Charlie