Looking Back on a Visit to Sanlitun Bar Street to Bid Farewell

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I used to be a fresh Beijinger once, dear reader. It was Christmas 2013 and my friends and I trekked from Haidian to Sanlitun to party some, as you do. Just east of Taikooli South, some gaudy lights beckoned us. We wandered into one of the venues at Sanlitun’s Original Bar Street, frowned at the price of a beer and the tacky vibes and that was it.

So, I could act all haughty about the demise of this legendary row of bars that bit the dust on Jan 31 (although a few were still hanging on come Feb 1). We’d brought you the news already, anyway, as we always do. Instead, I decided to join the bunch of locals and media that had flocked to Bar Street to bid their farewell.

Some venues had already shuttered before the final day

Say what you will about Sanlitun’s Original Bar Street; I’ve heard it all. Flashy stages, ample tables fit for party crowds and even a few dance poles —the image of sophistication they were not.

At least not any longer in our current times, with their dwindling clientele overwhelmingly featuring out-of-towners and a certain demographic of locals rather than sleek Beijing urbanites.

The street was mostly populated by people taking photos and selfies by the bars

At first, when I arrived to the site, it seemed to me that the strip of eleven bars would go without much fanfare. But, then I started noticing. There was a guy bending in every possible angle with his large camera. There were young folks snapping selfies.

There were respectable-looking, middle-aged ladies hopping from one bright façade to the next. Ah, here it was. Beijing was saying goodbye, after all, to this perennial piece of Sanlitun’s landscape.

With brightly lit venues being the most visited

In the early evening, some venues were still open, with some tables starting to welcome customers from the crowds outside, such as Red Moon Club, 26 Bar, No. 36 Easyday Pub, 60 Bar (Milan Club), Yue Bar and No. 66 Bar. Some, like Berry, No. 54 and, most notoriously, Swing 58, were already closed. I decided to try and chit-chat with my fellow onlookers.

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There was a reporter from South China Morning Post who ditched me in favour of interviewing the locals; after all, he had plenty of rivals from local media. Young people did not seem to have much to say, either.

An SCMP reporter was also on scene taking photos and conducting interviews

But then, there was a sturdy guy in his forties who told me that he used to come here with his buddies some five years ago, “because this is what was left after Dirty Bar Street closed”.

Those golden days were now behind them, interestingly not because of the epidemic, but rather because “we all got married and had kids.” Meanwhile, the bending photographer guy took the impending closure in stride. It was unclear to me whether he’d ever been a loyal customer himself, but when I enquired on his feelings about it all, he replied: “Well…such is life, isn’t it? Forever changing.”

This author was even surrounded by a crowd at one point

Perhaps the most moving moment for me, was when I approached the group of gentle-looking middle-aged ladies. Clad in their warm and discreet, yet stylish-looking winter attire, they were more than happy to share their fond memories of the area with me.

Their spokesperson, a dark-haired woman with a warm smile, informed me that they had come to bid farewell to a strip of bars that held many a cherished moment of their youth. Yes, they’d kept coming over the years; yes, the bars had all changed greatly. But, the woman continued, they did not particularly care. Whatever transformation these bars had undergone in their final years, they remembered them for what they used to be —and mean— to them.

Say what you will about the street, it certainly was colorful

You see, this is where I found myself nodding along like crazy. When Camera Stylo closed last year, you best believe I was there for one last night. In fact, I arrived early so that I could spend some one-on-one time with a space I’d come to cherish. I snapped plenty of pictures, gazed longingly at every tchotchke and then joined my friends for one last Spittoon Poetry Night that ended up as a huge blast for us all to remember.

And, you know what? The venue we loved so dearly was, in fact, a vessel for what we truly wanted to hang on to: a piece of the life we’ve forged for ourselves in Beijing. Through relationships that come and go and often leave a scar, through the passing of time, hell, through sheer chance —in a metropolis like Beijing, each of us have our own version of the city. It’s not always pretty, sometimes we’re out of breath and by golly, I swear it’s getting more and more expensive every year.

And the walk into Taikooli and beyond just won't be the same with it gone

But, to each of us there is one Beijing, and long after our times have passed, we will carry it inside of us.

The ladies were right. It’s not about the present, dear reader. The now is slipping away as I type these words and you read them anyway. It’s about something that you can always find open inside of you. Fare thee well, Sanlitun Bar Street.

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Images: Ana Padilla Fornieles

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