The day I arrived in Manila, I was driving out of the garage when the maid said, “But, sir, it is raining!” I didn’t quite understand her, so I simply made a reassuring gesture and drove on. Then, in a minute, I understood. In the Philippine archipelago rain usually came down like a blinding curtain of water. I felt like a helpless creature of the elements. Sheepishly, I turned into a side street and waited patiently for the rain to stop.
It was the reverse in Abu Dhabi. In two years it never rained, except two days before I was to leave. It was the lightest of drizzles and lasted a half hour, but people rushed out into the streets and almost danced with joy. Friends called enthusiastically to share their experience of a remarkable phenomenon and my neighbors brought me pastries. The next day it was a bold headline in Khaleej Times, the local newspaper.
In Konstanz, my favorite town in Germany, it rained unseasonably in the fall as I returned from a concert in the university. It suddenly turned chilly, I lost my way on the unfamiliar road, ended up in a warm and friendly speakeasy, and practically spent the night drinking and sharing stories with new found friends.
It rained in Hong Kong as I got out of the Kowloon ferry and ran for cover. I stood transfixed as cataracts of water threw a mysterious haze over the waterfront, prosaic streets turned magically mysterious, and a street urchin materialized out of nowhere, to fetch me a steaming cup of coffee for triple its usual price.
It was the reverse in Abu Dhabi. In two years it never rained, except two days before I was to leave. It was the lightest of drizzles and lasted a half hour, but people rushed out into the streets and almost danced with joy. Friends called enthusiastically to share their experience of a remarkable phenomenon and my neighbors brought me pastries. The next day it was a bold headline in Khaleej Times, the local newspaper.
In Konstanz, my favorite town in Germany, it rained unseasonably in the fall as I returned from a concert in the university. It suddenly turned chilly, I lost my way on the unfamiliar road, ended up in a warm and friendly speakeasy, and practically spent the night drinking and sharing stories with new found friends.
It rained in Hong Kong as I got out of the Kowloon ferry and ran for cover. I stood transfixed as cataracts of water threw a mysterious haze over the waterfront, prosaic streets turned magically mysterious, and a street urchin materialized out of nowhere, to fetch me a steaming cup of coffee for triple its usual price.
But the rainy day I cannot forget was in Kolkata, India. It had started as a warm, sunny day and I had walked back home from college with a coed, sipped tea together and then walked over to the terrace to show her the colorful festival kites floating in the afternoon sky. I held her hand, and when suddenly, without a warning, rain started pouring down, it seemed the most natural thing to take her face in my hands and kiss her. It was my first kiss.
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