Subways are to cities
what the six gun was
to the Old West—the
“Great Equalizer”.
In the crush of rush
hour they transport
teeming masses under
metropolises all over
the world. They distill
the various strata of
humanity, rich/poor,
majority/minority,
intellectuals/crazies—
no one gets there any
faster.
From the window seat
of a bus you can see a
city displayed in front
of you. I used to take
long bus rides with a
city map in hand and
marked my route so I
could return later to
photograph something I
liked. It was cheap.
Anyone with “coin of
the realm” can flag
14 | PicsArt Monthly
down a taxi. But there
are intermediate
conveyances that
service many
municipalities. They
are fun, unique and
bizarre. In Tanzania,
for short money, you
can ride on the back
of a motorcycle called
boda boda in order
to bypass traffic. I
have sat in the middle
seat of Philippines’
Jeepneys crushed
between other riders,
chickens on my
shoulders, camera
bag on my lap and my
luggage tied to the roof.
Conversation was brisk,
lively and unintelligible.
The three-stroke
engines of tuk-tuks in
India are ubiquitous,
toxic and highly
regulated. I went
everywhere in them.