Literally just 27 city metro stations with really cool names

Puerta del Sol square, Madrid. Image: Santiago Díaz/Wikimedia Commons.

Sol, Madrid Metro

Literally “sun”. Named after the Puerta del Sol square. For several years it was known as “Vodafone Sol”, which was rather less attractive. 

Étangs Noirs/Zwarte Vijvers, Brussels Metro

“Black ponds”. This being Brussels, we get it in two languages.

Besses o’ th' Barn, Manchester Metrolink

Named for the area of Bury, north of Manchester, in which it stands. No one’s entirely sure why it’s called that but it might be to do with a pub.

Franklin D. Roosevelt, Paris Metro

The Paris metro is a particularly great one for names. This one opened as Rond-Point des Champs-Élysées – literally, “roundabout of the Elysian Fields”, which is lovely enough in itself, really.

But its name was changed in 1946, when the nearby Avenue Victor-Emmanuel III (named after the king of Italy, which had just fought against France in World War II) was renamed Franklin D. Roosevelt Avenue (in honour of the US president who helped win the thing).

Délices, Lausanne

Named for a neighbouring street. Means “delights”. The Swiss have a station called “Delights”.

Clot, Barcelone Metro

The name means hole/cove/hollow. Basically, it’s a hole in the ground. Called Clot.

Onkel Toms Hütte, Berlin U-Bahn

You’re thinking this can’t possibly be what it looks like, but, yes, it genuinely is. It translates as “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”, like the Harriet Beecher Stowe novel about slavery.

Image: DXR/Wikimedia Commons. 

The area seems to have taken its name from a pub run by a bloke called Thomas, whose beer garden was full of huts. There’s no pub there now, anyway, but the name remains.

Bonne Nouvelle, Paris Metro

This one’s named for the district above it, which took its name from the Notre-Dame de Bonne-Nouvelle church. Which is all very sensible – but it does mean there are on-board announcements which literally translate as, “The next stop is good news.”


Admiralty, Hong Kong MRT

Takes its name from the area which once housed Admiralty Dock. While looking it up we also found...

Адмиралте́йская, St Petersburg Metro

...and decided it sounds so much better in Russian, where it’s “Admiralteyskaya”. Say it out loud. Pleasing, isn’t it?

While we’re at it:

Комендантский проспект, St Petersburg Metro

This one means “Commandant Avenue.” But that doesn’t sound as cool as “Kommandansky Prospekt”.

Keeping with the Russian theme:

Stalingrad, Paris metro

Located in the Place de la Bataille-de-Stalingrad, which was named for the battle.

Brockley Whins, Tyne & Wear Metro

Named for the area it’s in, though where that got its name is anyone’s guess.

Dudley Street Guns Village, Midlands Metro

Named after a street in West Bromwich, and the neighbourhood it’s a part of. That in turn took its name from the area’s once dominant industry.

The local Guns Village Prime School is currently debating a name change on the grounds that guns are bad.

Image: Clicsouris/Wikimedia Commons.

Les Gobelins, Paris Metro

Avenue des Gobelins disappointingly takes its name from a family of medieval dye manufacturers, rather than some actual goblins. But still.

Crossmyloof, Glasgow commuter rail

This one’s technically a mainline station, not a metro, but nonetheless: what a name. It might come from the Gaelic Crois MoLiubha – “Saint (Ma)lieu’s Cross”. Then again, it might not.

In October 2012, Wikipedia tells us, “a highland cow escaped the nearby Pollok Park and walked the rail line to this station, where it was captured and returned”. Wikipedia has one of those “citation needed” notes there, but it’s kept the line in anyway. And little wonder: this is one of those stories that’s just too good to check.

One stop further out of Glasgow on the same line you’ll find:

Pollokshaws West, Glasgow commuter rail

Pollokshaws. Another one that it’s genuinely worth saying out loud, just to hear yourself.

The city’s subway also has a Cowcaddens and a Cessnock, both named for the districts they sit in.

I seriously need to visit Glasgow sometime, that place sounds amazing.

Barbès – Rochechouart, Paris Metro

“A sneeze of a station,” says one correspondent. “Makes you sound like the sausages dog from That’s Life,” says another.

Anyway, it’s named for two streets, which take their names from a revolutionary and an abbess respectively. There’s a rom-com for you right there.

Foggy Bottom-GWU, Washington Metro

Named for a low-lying suburb next to the Potomac River prone to filling up with mist, and also George Washington University. Anyway, it’s where you get off the train if you want to visit the State Department.

Wedding, Berlin U-bahn & S-bahn

During the Cold War, some of the lines this station sits on were closed, to prevent travel between East and West Berlin. They re-opened in 2002, in an event known – inevitably – as “Wedding Day”.

It’s actually pronounced “veding”, but there we are.

The winning bike. Image: David Edgar/Wikimedia Commons.

Eddy Merckx, Brussels Metro

Okay, the name’s hard to pronounce, but the guy won the Tour de France five times. How many cycling tournaments have you won recently?

Luchtbal, Antwerp commuter rail

Means “air ball”. Of course it does.

Burpengary, Brisbane commuter rail network

A suburb whose name is derived from the aboriginal word “burpengar”, meaning the “place of the green wattle”. But which, joyously, has both “burp” and “Gary” in it.

Kunst-Wet/Arts-Loi, Brussels metro

Sitting at the corner of Art and Law streets, the station takes its name from both, and the result is, well, yes.

Picpus, Paris Metro

“Picpus on the Paris metro is adorable,” writes Tom Forth, “and sounds like a type of Pokémon.” Yes. Yes, it does.

It’s not, though. Nearby there’s a Picpus Cemetary.

Thanks to the readers of the CityMetric Twitter feed for doing all the hard work on this one. If you have suggestions for ones we’ve missed, get in touch.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter, far too much, as @jonnelledge.

Want more of this stuff? Follow CityMetric on Twitter or Facebook

 
 
 
 

What does the fate of Detroit tell us about the future of Silicon Valley?

Detroit, 2008. Image: Getty.

There was a time when California’s Santa Clara Valley, bucolic home to orchards and vineyards, was known as “the valley of heart’s delight”. The same area was later dubbed “Silicon Valley,” shorthand for the high-tech combination of creativity, capital and California cool. However, a backlash is now well underway – even from the loyal gadget-reviewing press. Silicon Valley increasingly conjures something very different: exploitation, excess, and elitist detachment.

Today there are 23 active Superfund toxic waste cleanup sites in Santa Clara County, California. Its culture is equally unhealthy: Think of the Gamergate misogynist harassment campaigns, the entitled “tech bros” and rampant sexism and racism in Silicon Valley firms. These same companies demean the online public with privacy breaches and unauthorised sharing of users’ data. Thanks to the companies’ influences, it’s extremely expensive to live in the area. And transportation is so clogged that there are special buses bringing tech-sector workers to and from their jobs. Some critics even perceive threats to democracy itself.

In a word, Silicon Valley has become toxic.

Silicon Valley’s rise is well documented, but the backlash against its distinctive culture and unscrupulous corporations hints at an imminent twist in its fate. As historians of technology and industry, we find it helpful to step back from the breathless champions and critics of Silicon Valley and think about the long term. The rise and fall of another American economic powerhouse – Detroit – can help explain how regional reputations change over time.

The rise and fall of Detroit

The city of Detroit became a famous node of industrial capitalism thanks to the pioneers of the automotive age. Men such as Henry Ford, Horace and John Dodge, and William Durant cultivated Detroit’s image as a centre of technical novelty in the early 20th century.

The very name “Detroit” soon became a metonym for the industrial might of the American automotive industry and the source of American military power. General Motors president Charles E. Wilson’s remark that, “For years I thought what was good for our country was good for General Motors, and vice versa,” was an arrogant but accurate account of Detroit’s place at the heart of American prosperity and global leadership.

The public’s view changed after the 1950s. The auto industry’s leading firms slid into bloated bureaucratic rigidity and lost ground to foreign competitors. By the 1980s, Detroit was the image of blown-out, depopulated post-industrialism.

In retrospect – and perhaps as a cautionary tale for Silicon Valley – the moral decline of Detroit’s elite was evident long before its economic decline. Henry Ford became famous in the pre-war era for the cars and trucks that carried his name, but he was also an anti-Semite, proto-fascist and notorious enemy of organised labor. Detroit also was the source of defective and deadly products that Ralph Nader criticized in 1965 as “unsafe at any speed”. Residents of the region now bear the costs of its amoral industrial past, beset with high unemployment and poisonous drinking water.


A new chapter for Silicon Valley

If the story of Detroit can be simplified as industrial prowess and national prestige, followed by moral and economic decay, what does that say about Silicon Valley? The term “Silicon Valley” first appeared in print in the early 1970s and gained widespread use throughout the decade. It combined both place and activity. The Santa Clara Valley, a relatively small area south of the San Francisco Bay, home to San Jose and a few other small cities, was the base for a computing revolution based on silicon chips. Companies and workers flocked to the Bay Area, seeking a pleasant climate, beautiful surroundings and affordable land.

By the 1980s, venture capitalists and companies in the Valley had mastered the silicon arts and were getting filthy, stinking rich. This was when “Silicon Valley” became shorthand for an industrial cluster where universities, entrepreneurs and capital markets fuelled technology-based economic development. Journalists fawned over successful companies like Intel, Cisco and Google, and analysts filled shelves with books and reports about how other regions could become the “next Silicon Valley”.

Many concluded that its culture set it apart. Boosters and publications like Wired magazine celebrated the combination of the Bay Area hippie legacy with the libertarian individualism embodied by the late Grateful Dead lyricist John Perry Barlow. The libertarian myth masked some crucial elements of Silicon Valley’s success – especially public funds dispersed through the U.S. Defense Department and Stanford University.

The ConversationIn retrospect, perhaps that ever-expanding gap between Californian dreams and American realities led to the undoing of Silicon Valley. Its detachment from the lives and concerns of ordinary Americans can be seen today in the unhinged Twitter rants of automaker Elon Musk, the extreme politics of PayPal co-founder Peter Thiel, and the fatuous dreams of immortality of Google’s vitamin-popping director of engineering, Ray Kurzweil. Silicon Valley’s moral decline has never been clearer, and it now struggles to survive the toxic mess it has created.

Andrew L. Russell, Dean, College of Arts & Sciences; Professor of History, SUNY Polytechnic Institute and Lee Vinsel, Assistant Professor of Science and Technology Studies, Virginia Tech.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.