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Red, yellow and green… what do they mean? Red, yellow and green… what do they mean?

Hey FOCers!

Do you ever get into that situation where others have to tell you when to stop? I’m sure we all have. The warnings can differ, but are always meant for your own well-being: where one would say stop this now, another would say I would stop, if I were you or even the less demanding you can stop if you want to.

As said, such warnings are almost always for your own good – although sometimes they can be a little whiny. This is not the case with ordinary warnings such as traffic lights: they are all for everyone’s well being and everybody seems to follow their orders. Red means stop, green means go and orange (or yellow, depending on your home country) is the traffic signs equivalent of I trust your judgment (which in almost all cases is a ‘go’).

If only real life was directed by traffic signs as well, it could have warned us for many dead ends, one ways, turn around now or simply have told us to stop! In the bedroom too the traffic regulations such as watch your speed, slippery roads ahead or sometimes warning: heavy load could prepare for some surprises…

Not wanting to pry too much into your private lives, but also always very concerned about you containing a happy and healthy love life, FOC decided to throw a traffic light party last week. For who wasn’t there, it means that you come dressed in the color that explains your current relationship status:

Green – single and ready to mingle

Orange/yellow – kind of together but it doesn’t really matter

Red – you and I don’t fit, so forget about it

In my hometown of Amsterdam the girls with red lights are not taken by the way, so avoid any confusion…

I was very pleased to see that lots of people showed up in green. Some showed up in yellow too – you aren’t fooling anybody, that’s just as green as the green ones… Some girl, who will remain anonymous, even got herself a red FOC shirt, only to write SINGLE on it. That’s how you play the game, ladies and gentlemen! On a side note, FOC shirts are always available at the bar and the profit goes to the Weebale Foundation to fight AIDS in Uganda, in case they get lucky after a traffic light party…

We weren’t keeping tabs on who took who home, but the party was definitely a success! I can’t help but believing it’s the expectations management that has taken away lots of barriers for most people. Who doesn’t have this friend that complains talking to a guy/girl all night only to find out he/she is taken? Just seems like such a waste of time…

Anyway, this party has given us the green light to do some more stuff to entertain you all over the winter. It is going to be really awesome, so please stay tuned. And we are always open to any ideas you might have to shake it up a little more in our Barceloneta hangout!

One secret than I can reveal already is that there’s going to be a sick Halloween party, so start thinking about sexy nurse/cowgirl/fairy/police/zombie dresses (girls) and whatever you think is fun to wear (guys) and I will update you soon with more info.

For the other things we have in store, just stick around and foc as much as you can! You always have a green light for that.

 

Pictures of the traffic light party can be found at the FOC Facebook page

 

 

To FOC or not to FOC: what’s the question? To FOC or not to FOC: what’s the question?

Hello FOC’ers,

Greater minds than ours have already wondered about the origins of the name of our Barceloneta hangout. As in almost any case, the answer is fuel for more questions – philosophical as we are, especially after a few drinks, we can’t seem to stop pondering the big why. The answer is transparent, and in this case can be found on the little windows that are the barriers of our terrace playground. Have you noticed? Foc means fire, one says, and indeed it does in Catalan.

Some of your FOC’ers might have noticed that the word bears some resemblance to the English verb of ‘intercourse’ or just ‘having sex’. Given the fact that the place does have some sexual innuendo such as the straws saying suck me and staff shirts saying foc you, one could debate that FOC is just a place where only horny people meet and that has sex written all over it.

As much as I would love that to be the case, not everyone is solely motivated by the sins and cheap thrills of life, and every now and then FOC is actually visited by decent, god-fearing human beings. This makes us think that there could be more to the word than most perverted brains presume. In search of the answer, yet again arise more questions. On another window it says Foc life is great, which gives to think that this word is a metaphor for some kind of lifestyle, focusing on relaxing in the shade and enjoying food and drinks. This theory is backed up by the window saying Foc-ing delicious, clearly a reference to the comida and bebida we have to offer, and the other one saying Live well, live foc, more than anything a promotion for a lifestyle that includes loads of foccing.

One would say that the mayority of the foccing would happen at it’s homebase itself, the FOC. But waitresses shirts make it all the more confusing. Don’t foc around, stay here, says one shirt, which seems an unbearable contradiction. Don’t foc around? But yes, stay here? Where the foccing is promoted by slogans on windows? This is where the problem really messes with your mind. What then, could this word mean? What kind of activity could be both promoted and discouraged at the same time?

For this, my FOC’ers, we need to get back to the pure simplicity of our initial idea. Just like the word ‘fuck’, ‘foc’ too can have so many meanings. For instance, if someone might ask you to fuck, in most cases you are at least flattered, if not very excited. At the same time, when someone asks you to fuck off, it can be a huge turnoff, and will most likely result in you not fucking, at least not with that person.

The same kind of double meaning is used when using the word ‘foc’. Foccing itself is highly recommended. Foccing around on the other hand, means a lack of foccing – something that can only be fixed by staying around and trying again. We are very patient and we believe in your foccing talent.

Now come on and foc with us – or not. That’s the question…

Life behind bars Life behind bars

Dearest readers,

I’m unaware if the same basic codes apply to online and offline behaviour, but even so I would like to start this conversation by introducing myself. You see, it’s not longer Liza that writes to you anymore, for she has chosen a life at sea to go wherever the wind takes her. More specifically, that means that she’s going on a new adventure working on yachts and discover the most beautiful places in the world. Sadly, it means that she’s leaving us too, for a few months at least.

So who are you dealing with now? Maybe we’ve already met. I’m Jesse, 25-years old, Dutch as well – but a guy. People seem to have trouble believing that when they read my name but it’s true. I’m a man. Trust me.

I came to Barcelona in May to work at FOC – just before the summer madness. And what a mad summer it was. Between my nights at FOC time was easily wasted partying, laying on the beach, exploring the city, making new friends and hell, some more partying to top it off. It just seems like in this city everything is just a bit more yummy: the weather, the food, the women…

Soon it became clear that Barcelona hosts people on and off, being of course a populair holiday destination, as well a city that many come to live in for a couple of months. So it happened that I had more visitors than I would ever go out with in my hometown of Amsterdam, and made many friends of which some have left already or are not staying much longer. But essentially everybody wants the same thing: to make the most out of the time they have in Barcelona, even if this time is indefinite.

Myself, I’ve made the move to here because I got my diploma and I was not looking forward to having an office job in the Netherlands. It felt like imprisonment for me. But having always worked at bars, restaurants and the such I decided to just go for it and put myself behind bars in Barcelona. It is no coincidence that the name of the city begins with BAR: flip a coin in the city and it lands on a bar of some kind. Coming here with no knowledge of the city whatsoever, I’m proud to announce to you that after about five months I’ve really made this city my own and now know one or two things that I would like to share with you to make your own Barcelona-experience most valuable. Of course you’re more than invited to share your own thoughts as well, so that not everything is from the blurred vision of a loud, drunk, girl-crazed bartender (these are the prejudices we have to deal with).

Please check back to stay updated about life behind bars, so as to enjoy your time ‘out’!