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Many others arrive with the same intentions, sometimes bringing a book to read on a bouncy Poang armchair or carrying stuffed toys for their children to play with on a mattress. For the midday squatters, the abundance of seating is no small detail in a country of 1.3 billion where nabbing a subway or bus seat is practically a blood sport.

The store's nerve center is the cafeteria. The lunch hour is an endurance contest. Hungry customers pace the dining room balancing overflowing trays, ready to pounce the second a table becomes available.

Beijingers have scarfed down their fair share of Swedish meatballs. Most, however, seem to favor Chinese food such as marinated pork belly with tofu.

It was the prospect of a satisfying and inexpensive meal that brought Luo Jing and her mother, sister and boyfriend into IKEA for the first time one Saturday. The group was resting in the sofa section, each carrying waxy paper cups worn in by one soda refill after another.

"We've heard a lot about IKEA but never came," said Luo, 23. "I like the simplicity. My mom liked the food. We'll hang out for a while."

Though frustrated, IKEA executives hope browsers like Luo will eventually turn into buyers. That's why they don't shoo anyone away for sleeping. It's the promise of China's middle class that has girded their investment here. The privately owned company operates seven stores in China, though there have been indications that profit remains elusive.

"The brand awareness is great, but the question is, how do we get people to open up their wallets and spend money?" said Linda Xu, a company spokeswoman who rolled her eyes when she came upon a trio of slumbering customers.

When Wal-Mart and the French supermarket chain Carrefour entered China in the 1990s, many flocked to the new stores just to look and touch. Now millions of Chinese shop there every day.

IKEA has the added challenge of copycats. Brazen customers are known to come in with carpenters armed with measuring tapes to make replicas. Zhang, the office manager visiting with his family, said he bought a TV table and a couch elsewhere that looked just like IKEA furniture.

"Why spend so much money when you can have the same thing cheaper?" he said.

Others take pictures of the displays to learn how to decorate their homes.

"I never knew you could just screw a shelf onto the wall," said Fan Haiying, 29, contemplating how to store her books and photographs. "Traditional Chinese furniture always needs a cabinet door."

Then there are the amateur photographers who revel in the store's ambience. To them, consumerism never looked so fine through a viewfinder.

A group of university graduates recently donned caps and gowns for photographs by the checkout aisles as if to capture the moment they matriculated to the middle class.

On another day, He Peng showed up with his compact Sony digital camera, which he uses to snap Beijing's modern landmarks. He shot the Bird's Nest Olympic stadium and the Apple Store in a tony outdoor shopping mall, then set his sights on IKEA.

"There's so much great stuff here," said He, 23. "I didn't know where to start."

He photographed his friends beating each other with stuffed toys. Then he methodically went through the store, snapping away at beds, kitchen counters and even the extra-long hot dogs at the snack bar.

He posted the photos on his blog, at photo.blog.sina.com.cn/biohazardhp.

His caption above a shot of IKEA products reads, "I don't need to buy them because I have pictures."

david.pierson@latimes.com