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There is a saying that if life sends you lemons, you should make lemonade.
Following that principle, when the forces of Nature send bad weather, I take photos of snow, ice, floods…
…and raindrops.
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The mention of lemonade took me yet again to Cambodia where in 1956, I encountered a divine beverage known as citron presse.
It was in fact not lemon but lime, a fruit that grew in abundance. The correct proportions of squeezed juice and sugar, diluted with soda water or seltzer, as it is called in the States, created a refreshing drink.
It never tasted quite as good as when served at the Hotel le Royal where it came in a tall glass. The lime needed to be freshly squeezed, not kept conveniently in a refrigerated bottle where it seemed to become bitter.
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The Le Royal survived the Khmer Rouge and was taken over by Raffles, of Singapore fame, so it is still perhaps the premier hotel in Phnom Penh.
Even in 1956 it was the place to stay.
Or, if you were a foreign street-urchin like my friend Sabrina and I, you went there in search of clues. What we expected to find up in the rafters, I’ve no idea. It was an adventure.
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We had no trouble gaining access to the place, one hot afternoon, but we must have been too enthusiastic about it, since as we descended from the attic and came clattering into a hotel corridor, an irate Frenchman emerged from his room shouting at us indignantly because we had disturbed his siesta.
Sabrina and I sometimes had access to her father’s chauffeur-driven car, but mostly we rode around in cyclo-pousses.
Once, we engaged one each and persuaded the drivers to race, which we all regarded as great fun.
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Occasionally we went to the Le Royal for a meal. The dining hall was a large room with a tiled floor and heavy teak furniture. It had tall ceilings from which were suspended slowly rotating fans.
One night we dined beneath such a fan in the company of American friends and I remember that Jim, becoming aware that I was shivering, draped his serviette around my shoulders. Odd, the things you recall!
Jim and his wife were the first Americans I knew. They became great friends. Their daughter, also Carolyn, was four years older. She came to stay with me one evening while my parents were out, presumably to babysit, although I wasn’t told so and would have denied the need!
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In the event, we for some forgotten reason barricaded ourselves in the bathroom with the door locked until my parents returned.
The house was reputed to have a ghost in the garden, but I can’t recall ever being frightened there other than on that one night when I was BABYSAT.
Later on, I spent an evening alone in our house on stilts in Thailand. The place was surrounded by trees and everything creaked. At certain times of year, you could count on break-ins. That night I was scared.
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Our American friends were transferred first to Thailand and later to Laos, like y father, so we remained in touch.
Francine was an artist and in Bangkok she became the originator of multi-coloured temple rubbings. These were beautifully framed in Thai silk and became very popular. They were spectacular and many learned the technique.
My mother enjoyed going with Francine to Wat Po and I still have the rubbings she did. One day as she worked, a young boy grabbed her handbag and ran off.
Somehow, he was caught and my mother was asked to go to the jail to identify him, but the lad’s father came to make amends and plead with her not to ruin his son’s life.
Seeing the cages at the jail, I doubt my mother would have identified the boy in any case and he was released.
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Memories of Cambodia always include those friends, because we spent quite a bit of time together.
When I scratched mosquito bites raw, they became infected and painful such that I would not allow my mother to change the dressing, so she enlisted Jim’s assistance, knowing that I would not make a fuss on front of him.
Mum had an innate skill for manipulating her children, though that is not how she would have seen it!
She simply knew what had to be done and made it happen.
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Jim was with USOM, the United States Overseas Mission. He had been a commander in the US Navy during WW2 and I imagine he and my father traded stories, but I the only one I recall was Jim’s dramatic account of a hurricane he’d experienced.
What I do remember of those long-ago days is a lot of laughter. I know I would still recognise Jim and Francine’s voices and I can picture their smiles to this day.
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We had numerous American friends and they are part of my fondest childhood memories. They were kind and generous and fun.
What would they think of modern America?
It is hard to conceive.
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So much nostalgia brought on by the mention of a simple lemon.
I do so enjoy your memories of the ‘colonial’ lifestyle in S.E, Asia. I also loved citron presse, having tried my first one in France at the age of 11, on a school trip to Calais.
Best wishes, Pete.
Thank goodness for such fond memories. They make our lives so much richer!
Thank you, Carolyn, for the beautiful memories from your childhood! I love the punch line and the excellent photography!
Joanna
What a lovely post. -Gladys
What extraordinary memories simply told!
Thank you for sharing them.