In China's far west, young entrepreneurs are brewing a new future

URUMQI, Dec. 6 (Xinhua) -- On the roof of the world, where thin air brushes against snow-capped peaks, a new aroma is joining the scents of pine and frost: freshly ground coffee. In the far reaches of western China, a wave of young entrepreneurs from the Pamir frontier to the back alleys of Lhasa is quietly reshaping the rhythm of the plateaus.

They are part of a subtle "reverse migration" trend, swapping the pressure-cooker job markets of China's megacities for a life measured by altitude, sunlight and possibility, turning surreal landscapes into the backdrops for their ambitions.

Infrastructure is key. In Xinjiang's Taxkorgan Tajik Autonomous County, which borders Pakistan, Tajikistan and Afghanistan on the eastern foothills of the Pamir Plateau, a new plateau airport and two major land ports have done more than move goods -- they've opened the Pamir Mountains to a surge of travelers chasing its pristine beauty.

This fresh current of visitors includes people like Xia Hong, a partner at the aptly named Ta Piao Coffee cafe.

"Ta Piao means 'drifters' here in Taxkorgan, a kind of reverse migration," Xia said, now 10 years into her life at altitude. "One of our signature drinks is called 'Nomad,' inspired by the pastoral life of the Tajiks."

Her cafe's brisk business, which serves more than 200 cups a day during peak periods and recently opened its second branch, has become a rough measure of the region's newfound pull.

This influx is not merely a seasonal swell, but a force that is actively reshaping the local economy. The scale is unmistakable. Since 2019, Taxkorgan has logged more than 8 million tourist visits from home and abroad, which generated over 5.5 billion yuan (about 777.4 million U.S. dollars) in revenue. The once-quiet frontier now has 640 homestay or pastoral lodge businesses.

For young residents like Banafsha Memetituheti, a 24-year-old Tajik university graduate, these numbers translate into possibility. After moving back home, she spotted a gap in the market. "Travelers come from so far, but most just rush in for a few photos," she said.

She responded by converting her family's old house into a smart homestay, mixing traditional style with modern amenities. And a steady rise in bookings has turned her family's heritage into a viable livelihood.

This trend stretches southeast along the famed Xinjiang-Xizang highway to Lhasa, where a tourism boom has ignited fierce competition. With more than 800 coffee shops serving a city of roughly 870,000 permanent residents, Lhasa now has the highest cafe density in China.

In such a crowded market, survival depends on standing apart. Yonten Tsomo, a Tibetan law graduate of the Shanghai University of Finance and Economics, founded Nindo Coffee in Lhasa -- Xizang's first boutique coffee brand. She had a cultural thesis as much as a business plan: to show the world "another possibility of ancient Tibetan culture."

Her mantra, "Root locally, integrate innovatively," has shaped a menu that includes a "Lhasa latte" and a "highland barley wine cold brew." This approach has carried Nindo from a local standout to a kind of cultural envoy, earning places at coffee festivals in Shanghai and even London.

Industry observers say these young entrepreneurs now occupy a dual role. "They're not only creating new business models, they're acting as translators of local culture," one expert noted.

Their cafes and homestays function as more than amenities; they have become destinations in their own right, deepening the texture of a traveler's journey. Local governments are leaning in as well. In Taxkorgan alone, officials have helped launch more than 30 boutique homestays, breathing new life into idle properties.

Yet this entrepreneurial path isn't all poetry and distant horizons. The plateau's brutal seasonality -- booming in summer, barren in winter -- has sunk more than a few dreams.

Yonten Tsomo has responded by broadening her menu to include Tibetan-style light meals, trying to attract both tourists and locals, and that helps carry the business through the slack months.

Officials are thinking along similar lines. They speak of turning "cold resources into a hot economy," as Ding Yanqing, deputy director of Taxkorgan's culture and tourism bureau, put it. This is done by mixing winter scenery, intangible heritage and local customs into off-season travel experiences compelling enough to draw visitors back again and again.

The trend is increasingly underpinned by larger regional strategies. Xinjiang has set the goals of attracting more than 400 million tourists annually by 2030 and developing a trillion-yuan cultural tourism and sports industry.

According to observers like Ge Lei, secretary-general of the China Tourism Association, the fundamentals are strong. The region possesses "world-class tourism resources" with vast untapped potential. What matters now, he suggested, is focusing on demand, enabling the market players on the ground, and creating new tourist magnets and growth drivers through deep industrial integration, innovative development models and customer-centric services.

As steam coils upward from espresso machines in a landscape of perpetual snow, it signals more than a simple caffeine fix. It heralds a recalibration of ambition, where China's far west is no longer on the edge of the map but a new frontier for youthful enterprise and cultural conversation.