Photo by starphototegal

There is no shortage of evidence to show that the West is in fact far less developed than the East: the death of spirituality. The domination of work over family. Material individualism. Girlicious.

But nothing proves how backwards we are than our failure to adopt the single greatest mode of urban transportation: the becak, a two-seater rickshaw pushed from behind by a bicycle.

Indonesians are an inventive bunch when it comes to moving people. In any large city, you’ll find at least six different modes of transport. If you can stick wheels on it and charge for use, there’s a version of it.

The becak makes all of them seem antiquated. Riding a bike on the street is exhausting. Your concentration can’t falter as you weave around cars that are weaving around other cars. Motorcycles are worse for the same reason times speed, plus the fear of losing one’s limbs.

Cars and buses are moving shelters. You not only miss the fast-moving scenery, you’re also shielded from it.

The becak has all the lionized benefits of the bike minus the need for concentration. The world passes along at a low enough pace to allow detailed appreciation. Shops have more character, even the shade of trees feel more pleasant. Pedestrians have time to size you up and wave hello, to exchange a word or two.

And nothing compares to the force field of a becak. Fast-moving cars and motorcycles swerve around you like a laid-back river around a rock. Even when crossing busy intersections the world defers to you. You’re a family of ducks crossing the street, a dignitary without a motorcade. Let all others kill themselves slowly with stress and hurry, as long as they make room for your cocoon of serenity.

And there’s no way more dignified than stepping off a vehicle than really just stepping off.