U Vystřelenýho oka is not your average pub. Since the day it opened, it has become a legendary spot in town. It's often described as a postmodern tragedy from A to Z, and when you step in around midnight, you'll see why.

The crowd here is a vibrant mix of students, artists, intellectuals, and free spirits of all sorts, constantly bouncing around, singing, debating, and sometimes even stripping. It's the epitome of a relaxed atmosphere, as a Czech or even Žižkov pub should be. The beer is of standard quality, while the kitchen, with a few exceptions, falls slightly below average.

They do offer wine from Moravian vineyards and a well-chilled Finnish vodka with lime worth mentioning. The staff is ironic, sometimes tipsy, and often a bit eccentric. Expect loud music, a smokey haze, half-drowning stoves, and a broken thermometer near the tap.

This place doesn't have slot machines, only memory games and a children's hockey game that regulars guard fiercely, as they've been training for a match with Kladno for years. Don't expect any promotional offers here; two shots won't get you a third free, but be careful they don't add it to your tab. The pub's decorations by academic painter Martin Velíšek are commendable.

You'll find an aquarium integrated into a classic beer barrel, a depiction of Jan Žižka on a seahorse, two fake windows capturing the Battle of Vitkov, sculptures of Jan Žižka and his eye testers, and a painting of reconciliation where Hussites and Crusaders exchange jerseys like modern athletes. Even the toilet decoration is artful, with the popular handrails Jára and Láďa being appreciated for their practicality. The pub also hosts various events, mainly concerts, literary evenings, carnival Sundays, and international nights, often featuring Hungarian music and cuisine.

They're also open to private events and are willing to cook or bake nearly anything you desire, as they believe that like any other pub, they can do almost anything for money. If you wonder why this somewhat paradoxical pub is so popular despite its flaws, the answer can be found in an article I wrote for the Hungarian literary magazine Nagy Vilag in 2004/9 on page 723. M.

Bauer - the Innkeeper