Your alarm screams at 4:30 AM.
You drag yourself out of bed. Gulp down instant coffee that tastes vaguely like burnt plastic. Stumble into the dark street.
The air already smells of diesel exhaust and stale frying oil. Your eyes burn. Your legs feel like lead.
But you aren't doing this to catch a miserable red-eye flight. You’re doing this to stare down a 130-pound apex predator. Right in the middle of a city pushing four million people.
Wild.
Why does this concrete-bound safari actually work?
People

