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Go Fraktal. Make Happy.

It's not that kind of place. What Fraktal is, more or less, is one of the best goddamned bars in the city. Hidden away from the punk sonsab*tches as mentioned above, it causes one to find yet another reason to feel the need to migrate to Letna.

The place has garnered the sort of well-bred crowd that allows only the promise of good times and hearty drink.

So good and hearty in fact, that it's the only place in mind where one can show up at 2pm, drink till your liver explodes and pass out face down in a puddle of boiler-makers to wake up three hours later when you've got some girl's hand down your pants, but a weak stomach that barrels over to the bathroom to cleanse the binge; regardless of which, 20 minutes later you're back in the same damned spot you left, knockin' em down with a whole new crowd.

The regulars and semi-regulars are an ensemble cast consisting of Czechs, Americans, FAMU kids, old men, young men, middle men and other assorted colors and sizes. Yet the owners insist that the cause of the good blood is due to the locals.

Nevertheless there is something about the place that causes it to be filled nearly every night.

Whether it's the cheap booze, the wood worked furniture that sets the stage, or an eclectic mix of tunes ranging from the Clash at 8pm to some form of Latin explosion at closing time, Fraktal is a fledgling bar owners wet-dream.

Opening from 11 till they feel like closing, if you go with a group it would be ideal to book a table, since usually by midnight it's dog eat dog. But keep in mind that the place is somewhat hard to spot due to lack of a proper sign.

The owners swore to me that by the spring, once the patio is open, they're going to put up two big-ass totem poles bearing the name of the place, so you should bolt there right now. Just be sure to bring thirst, good karma and a mind to pay the tab after you've cashed your chips in.

An older review from the good ol'days by Jeremy Hurewitz

Actually, Fraktal might be a little closer to the old Terminal Bar (remember?) with a hip movie night every Sunday at eight that features shorts and independent features. They recently showed Vera Chytilova's infamous ode to lesbianism, "Daisy", which my drinking buddy proclaimed "the flower of Prague Spring". Co-owner Scott Rodgers - well-known chef and creator of menus at Palfy Palac, Mecca and the Globe - says he's got the best baguette in town.

My only complaint was that it was a misnomer as this was the closest thing in town to a real old-school hero sandwich. His two Swedish partners serve up a homemade licorice shot that tastes something like jagermeister but with a warmer, more expansive taste that has probably nourished Swedes through many cold winters.

Among the other notable liquors are some obscure absinthes and Nicaraguan rum. They were kicking an old Ramone's record and the nicely lit space served the garage/exhibition decor well. The secret is out.