The coastline is transformed, the mountains are gouged out, the forests are burned to the ground… and the taxis remain. The low-slung faded chariots of third-millennium Beirut tick dutifully on, decade after decade.
The view from a ’72 Benz C250 is the only way for an amateur pollster to make a living in this town. For the price of a useless newspaper, a cab fare buys you several minutes of frank, anonymous, first-hand commentary. No need to diversify your sample set, for it is as diverse as the country itself. It is also, magically, self de-segregating, by the nature of the cabbie’s job, namely, circulation.
The service taxi is Lebanon’s national confessional. Candid revelations await those who make the trip.
(Read the whole series here).