I remember in Tel Aviv, I decided to buy some bread from Piece of Cake, one Friday morning.
It was a gloomy day. I thought it was one of those days.
I had gotten used to Tel Aviv, Israel’s dark-grayish skies that seemed like rain is forthcoming, but would not deliver.
But, that day it did. And rain poured down like madness.
People inside the bakery came to the windows to check on the waters as they gushed through the sidewalk gutters, like fast-flowing stream.
Rain waters created a torrent of sorts, quickly rising up to the levels of the sidewalks of HaYamit.
In Israel, rains are few and far between.
Hence, for most Israelis, rain is like a blessing. Manna from the heavens is more like it.
I can only imagine the awe and gratitude those people in Piece of Cake must have felt.
How I wish I could bring them all to Manila and experience its monsoon rains.
Ten minutes and it has done. The rains were gone.
The skies, however, treated them to a spectacle of rain waters.
I treated myself to some piping-hot, freshly baked potato bourekas.