Let’s open a bar.docVIP

Let’s open a bar 　　if you live in Beijing， you most likely have noticed that bars and cafes seem to spring up out of nowhere. Just a few years ago， such establishments were located only in major foreign hangouts， like Sanlitun （三里屯） and Wudaokou （五道口）， but now are rapidly conquering new neighborhoods. Whether you live on the east or the west side of the city， you will find all manner of booze-eries， from cozy corners to bombastic breweries， offering beers， cocktails and snacks. Some survive and become quite popular. Many do not. 　　We’ve all had the conversation， during a late night with friends， usually after a lot of drinking. Someone says， “We should have our own bar，” and out come the ideas―at first， it’s an aesthetic nightmare， but eventually everyone agrees on the design， architecture and concept， before turning excitedly back to their drinks. Most of the time， all is usually forgotten by the next day. Opening a bar in Beijing is a dream for many； for others， the bar business is an arduous， daily fight to stay afloat. 　　The owners of Beijing’s bars and breweries come from all backgrounds： many had no intention of becoming bar owners， when they arrived. Carl Setzer， the American owner of The Great Leap Brewery （大跃啤酒 D3yuP！ji^） says， “I used to be an IT consultant. Little by little， however， my interest in brewing beer grew： drinking beer has always been my passion.” In 2010， Setzer’s first line of original beers were marketed and sold at his own place， a small beer garden close to Nanluogu Xiang （南锣鼓巷 N1nlu5g^xi3ng）. Despite being right next to one of Beijing’s most popular tourist and nightlife destinations， Great Leap is difficult to find. When confronted with the obscurity of his brewer’s Eden， Setzer shrugs―he isn’t worried. The quality of his beers， he says， makes up for the location. “We get no passersbys， but we have our usual customers.” 　　Opening a bar wasn’t on Xiao Ming’s radar， either， when he first left his native Henan Province to come to C