Hospitality with an accent: foreigners rule the bars and kitchens: "Many Spaniards are no longer willing to do this."

Wilson Pardo Paredes moves around Bar los Aros II in Madrid at a frenetic pace. Railroad smoke could emanate from this Bolivian's head . His build is substantial. Slightly stooped, but with the shoulders of a mule. Sturdy. Two trapezoids like ingots, typical of someone carrying a heavy load.

"People like me are helping this country move forward in many ways, especially in sectors like the hospitality industry," he says, while warmly greeting several patrons, intoning his signature mantra: "How are you, kiddo?!" "We come with a desire," he emphasizes, "with the need to get ahead, and that gives us a different kind of strength. We don't come here to hang out, we come to work and build a life," he emphasizes.

Ninety-seven percent of new self-employed workers in Spain over the last four years are foreigners. According to data from the Ministry of Inclusion, Social Security, and Migration , in the past twelve months, the number of registered Spanish self-employed workers has fallen by 21,000, while the number of foreigners has increased by 24,000. Among them, many have taken up the mantle of the hospitality industry (22.5% of new self-employed workers), a sector in which Spanish entrepreneurs have been losing confidence . The data alone is revealing. But what lies behind them? What makes foreigners so inclined to run the reins of the taverns in this country?

"It's a sector that requires a lot of labor, sacrifice, long hours, and physical effort," Wilson emphasizes. "And many Spaniards aren't willing to do that anymore. We are. Besides," he adds with an emphasis that demonstrates the persuasiveness of his argument, "setting up a business here is much safer than in our countries. For example, in Bolivia , if you set up a bar or a store, you have to constantly be afraid of being robbed, of being assaulted. Here you pay your taxes, yes, but you also know that there is protection, that the system works better."

A system Wilson has known for more than a quarter of a century, since he landed in Spain, dispatched by his mother , given his profligate lifestyle. "I was lost to the bad influence. I went out a lot, my mother had had enough. One day I came home drunk, grabbed me by the neck, sat me at the table crying, and told me she wouldn't spend any more money on me." Soon, Wilson was on his way to Spain, where one of his sisters was already living, practicing dentistry.

Foreignness as a synonym for sacrifice

Wilson went through it all. From peach picking in Murcia to loading barrels at unsociable hours, putting his back at enormous risk. Already in the 21st century, Pardo ended up in the hospitality industry, where he started "working 13 or 14 hours a day for the same salary a Spaniard would earn for eight. I didn't complain because I knew that if I showed commitment and effort, my boss would see it." The bar where he started was Los Aros II, the same one where you can still find Wilson every day, except now he's not a subordinate, but its owner.

After much hard work, Wilson's dreams became a reality. Conditions improved, and his relationship with his boss strengthened to the point where he became his son's godfather . When work-related arthritis and accumulated fatigue set in, and the boss decided to hang up his apron, Wilson was the logical choice. And so, through considerable financial effort, for the past year, what had been Wilson Pardo Paredes's hospitality school for two decades has now become his parish. And he runs it with a work philosophy that is also a life philosophy.

"The entrepreneur isn't just the one who gives the orders or puts up the money," Wilson concludes. "For a business to work, the boss has to have gone through all the stages: cleaning, cooking, serving. Only then do they truly understand what each part of the job entails. For me, the entrepreneur must be at the bottom, the pillar of the company. The employees have to be at the top. If the boss thinks he's superior and doesn't understand the effort behind it, the business doesn't work. It's like a poorly built house: it collapses sooner or later."

Homemade Italian food does not disappoint

"Homemade Italian food never disappoints," says Stefano Franzi, Venetian chef and culinary soul of Mozzafiato, a restaurant founded in 2021, during the pandemic, in the heart of Madrid's Chamberí neighborhood, with a generous smile. "I've been working since I was 12. Undeclared, washing dishes, working in the fields on weekends... Then I studied at a boarding school for hospitality," recalls this cheerful and cheerful chef.

Like so many of his fellow countrymen, Franzi didn't come to Spain with the intention of improvising. Rather, his was a meticulous construction. Together with his wife, Leila, they built this small restaurant with an artisanal vocation .

"It was a risk, but we believed in the idea. Most Italian restaurants here don't make fresh pasta on-site," Leila notes, before pragmatically summarizing the established roles: "He only takes care of the kitchen, and I take care of everything else. That's our strength. Stefano comes from the world of haute cuisine, but I had a different idea: something smaller, more family-oriented. More homey. Because cooking has been his passion since he was a child, but management is my thing."

And these passions aren't so misguided, given that her restaurant has achieved near-perfect ratings . "Our score is 4.9 with almost 1,500 reviews," Leila explains proudly, before attributing it to word of mouth and foreign tourism, especially from the United States.

According to the aforementioned data from the Ministry of Inclusion, Social Security, and Migration, Italians are the most entrepreneurial nationality from the EU and the third overall. When Stefano was asked about this data, the chef stated: "Probably because it's worth it," he reasoned. "I haven't done exact calculations, but yes, there are a lot of Italians, and it shows: they're opening bars, restaurants... Plus, there's a lot of Latin American immigration coming with Italian passports . That also plays a role," the chef reflected, while wetting his lips with a strong and aromatic espresso .

Now the million-dollar question arises. If foreigners are so invested in the Spanish hospitality industry, why aren't Spaniards doing as much business in their own country? "It has to do with the bad press the hospitality industry is currently getting in Spain," says Stefano. "And, above all, the tax aspect," Leila adds, a hint of indignation. "I didn't know it well until we opened. It's not motivating. You think you open today and close tomorrow debt-free, but that's not the case. You have to do a lot of calculations. How much does a dish, a menu, cost? Before, it was €13; now that's almost impossible. The numbers don't add up," says the manager of the Mozzafiato restaurant.

"Many people tell me at the tables," Leila continues, "that they come from long generations of restaurateurs, but that it's no longer profitable because of taxes. Since we opened four years ago, more than 15 establishments around us have closed," she confesses with some astonishment. "People come without market research. They come thinking that an Argentine empanada or a nice dish is enough. But for a business to work, you have to sell a lot. You have to sell a lot to maintain a space, pay rent, employees... And if you hire someone without experience, you pay the same as if they had training. That's tricky. I have to teach them from scratch, and if they fail, the cost is on me."

As a final reflection, both Leila and Stefano are clear that the hospitality industry has to be your life to be successful: "Either you do it out of passion, or you end up making cheap fast food . And yet, many are closing." This is further proof of how, from abroad, people are jumping on the hospitality bandwagon out of a mix of courage, a certain well-intentioned stupidity, and a passion that knows no meaning for sacrifice.

It's not a Chinese tale

"I've been in the hospitality industry for over 25 years," says Juan, manager of the Sapporo restaurant in Madrid's Tetuán neighborhood. This middle-aged man of Chinese origin stands out for enjoying one constant in his career: adaptation. "I used to work in a bazaar, I sold sneakers, I did everything." It's a nomadic and pragmatic path, shared by many of his compatriots who came to Spain seeking economic stability , and who have transformed streets, neighborhoods, and entire sectors.

"If we see a local business doing well, we copy it," Juan admits honestly, when asked about Chinese nationality's first place as an entrepreneur in Spain. "In the late 90s, bazaars were operating, so many of us opened bazaars. Then clothing, handbag, and sneaker stores became fashionable... And now, especially since the pandemic, people want to eat out. So all-you-can-eat buffets, ramen, sushi... That's what we do. We adapt."

But the success of this model isn't based solely on imitation, but on a capacity for methodical, almost industrial work that breaks with certain stereotypes. "Many people believe we Chinese are very hard workers. But that's not true," Juan clarifies. "The difference is that we concentrate our efforts. We work hard while we're strong, until we're 50. Then, if we can, we retire. And let our children, or our nieces and nephews, continue."

Added to this work strategy is a distinct cultural approach to problem-solving. "Here in Spain, things are done more slowly, with more detail. We tend to solve things quickly and move on," he admits with conviction. "This difference in mentality between East and West can be jarring at first. But it also explains why we've been able to react quickly to market changes," says Juan, who, despite taking out his phone with Google Translate, hasn't had any need to use it.

As a final touch, it's essential to ask Juan about the future of Chinese-owned hospitality in Spain . Will it grow? Will it decline? "In the coming years, many bazaar stores will close," he asserts. " Online sales have wiped them out. And where will all those people go? To the hospitality industry. Because food can't be downloaded from Amazon. So yes, this sector will grow. A lot."

One conclusion, that of the Sapporo restaurant manager, could easily be drawn from all the testimonies collected. It seems that foreigners rule, and will rule even more so, in Spanish bars and kitchens in the coming years.

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