This is kind of why I hesitate to take a seat on the subway sometimes

I'm leaning against a pole inside a Line 1 train when I hear a man sitting close to me say to a woman standing next to him, What's that question supposed to mean?

She had asked if there was a seat -- 有坐儿吗？

Do you mean you want to sit? he asks brusquely. His tone is sharp, his voice loud.

No.

He seems willing to stand but then decides better of it.

What do you mean is there a seat? Do you see any seats?

Indeed all the seats are taken. But now the two of them are both speaking loudly, attracting attention. I look left and see an older man with gray whiskers. His eyes are wide, his body tense. Swiftly, he moves over. He has an iron posture -- I know this because he nudged me out of the way -- and he stands up for the lady by planting himself next to her. Perhaps he's her husband, ready to put up his fists if the seated man dares touch her.

How can you talk like that? she asks.

Talk like what? the seated man demands.

I just asked you a question.

You asked if there was a seat. Is there a seat? I'm sitting right here and you ask if there's a seat?

She was just asking a question, the old man interjects, leaning in, shaking his finger. Their arms brush against one another.

Asking if there is a seat. What do you mean is there a seat? Does it look like there's a seat Where do you want to sit? Here? He signals at his lap.

Two more men, who are younger, come over. One stands next to the lady and joins the bickering, their Mandarin accented (unlike the seated one, who appears to be from Beijing). Everyone is staring at them. We're approaching Dongdan station, my stop.

The young one next to me leans into the seated man. Sit down, he says. Stop pointing your finger. Then, pointing his finger: Who talks like you just did? Was her question not right?

The man hesitates briefly. No, he says. I'll tell you why. You see me sitting there. So what do you mean, "Is there a seat?"

It's here that I had to get off.

Line 4 nearly operational

I know I've been critical in the past about Beijing's subway having too many "unnecessary" stations, but Line 4 may have just the opposite problem -- too many all-too-necessary stations, making for crowded trains. Anyway, it's long overdue, as anyone who's tried going to Peking University and Tsinghua, or the zoo market (or the zoo itself) or the park Yuanmingyuan or Nanluoguxiang knows quite well. And now that it's so tantalizingly close to opening, I'm all too willing to overlook the fact that it makes an unnecessary stop at Lingjing Hutong (apologies to the subway company, as I've learned that the renovations in my old neighborhood were probably unrelated to subway construction).

Now go watch this video about Line 4.

My poor old neighborhood

It has always been my opinion that Beijing has too many subway stops. Oh, the trains are nice and modern (some even air-conditioned, though that's not necessarily a good thing when the old air never gets recycled out and fresh air never comes in during the summer months), but they stop way too often, and unnecessarily.

The 5-line, for instance: anyone want to tell me why there's a stop at Beixinqiao when one can walk 10 minutes to the Dongzhimen subway or take any of about 16 buses there? At least five or six lines can (should) be removed from that subway line. And who can tell me why the Tiananmen West stop exists on Line 1? Has anyone ever 1) used that station or 2) seen anyone board the train from that station? (Okay, I exaggerate... has anyone ever seen two people board from there?) The only contribution Tiananmen West has made to this city is making people confused, and I suppose trains could always stand to see fewer tourists crammed inside, but still...

Anyway, they're building new subway lines as we speak, many of them even less necessary. Take the 4-line, for instance, which is supposed to run northwest-southeast, zigzagging through my old neighborhood at Xihuangchenggen (西黄城根). This street, loosely translated as "West Root of Imperial City," is at once modern and timeworn, with just the right mix of hutongs, restaurants (Xinjiang, Sichuan, chuar (kabob) bars, old Beijing, you name it...), small shops, convenience stores and 1950s-built courtyards. There are also three bus stations and plenty of cabs. In other words, if there's one neighborhood in Beijing that surely does not need a subway running underneath, this is it.

But look what they're doing:

Lingjing Hutong, the street perpendicular to the southern tip of Xihuangchenggen South St.

Xihuangchenggen South St.

The second picture doesn't appear to show much besides congestion, but look towards the back... yup, that's a blue construction fence.

Here's what this street looked like earlier this year:


Two of my favorite restaurants there -- a Xinjiang place with a nice owner and a chuar bar where my friends and I had this outing -- have boarded up and left. Ugh. That's all I can say.

It used to be a brisk 15- to 20-minute walk from my old residence at Xihuangchenggen to the Xidan subway stop. Now, okay, it'll be a 10-minute walk to the Lingjing Hutong station, but half as beautiful. Here are two street-level views and another fifth-story view, all from last summer.

And finally, in honor of above-linked chuar bar -- which Kevin, Casey and I discovered one night last fall for a late dice outing -- a picture from Valentine's Day eve, where Joe's pictured offering me a very, very spicy (the Chinese phrase is 变态辣, or "pervertedly spicy") chicken wing:

Bus comparison: Pingguoyuan vs. Jingcheng District

Pingguoyuan is near the outskirts of Beijing, on the tip of the subway's 1-line.

Jingcheng is where Olympic Green is located.

Can you guess which bus serves which area?



Air-conditioned and comfy

Picture of the day: smiling on the subway

Inside a 1-line train

Picture of the day: subway madness

The 1-line at Jiangguomen on Thursday at 5:27 p.m.:



You don't see it, but a man nearly got trampled while trying to squeeze into the train. The queue you see in the second picture are the folks who couldn't get in.