One of my favourite things about being here is the public transportation. There is just something about walking out into a bright sunny morning after night shift, trudging up the road, flagging down a jeepney, and squeezing in between the other early morning riders. As the jeepney flys down the road and over the overpass, you know only the people pressed in on either side of you are keeping your exhausted body upright. Exiting the jeepney has been likened to walking a tightrope and being born all at the same time as you carefully place one foot in front of the next to avoid crushing vulnerable toes and contort your upper body to keep your head from smacking the roof and your arms from banging those one either side. When you finally reach the end of the tunnel, there is a feeling of being expelled as your body and baggage pop free of the crush into open air. If you climb into a jeepney later in the day, you may find yourself nodding to the beat of loud music as your hair blows in the wind. Being a bit taller than the average native, I often find myself unable to clearly see out the sides of the jeepney and have learned to memorize the colours on the lower half of walls, shops, and buildings as I near my stop. The yellow floor of McTerry’s Bakery, an old rusted car, a blue tin fence, a cement block building, and an overgrown field pass by as I near the clinic.