Doing a bit of a disservice to the Schulz story it steals its name from, Ulica Krokodyli feels like a good effort gone wrong. Designed to look like the dusky interwar streets of Schulz's own Drohobycz, and suitably full of shop signage and streetlights, what could be an atmospheric interior is too often overrun with delinquent students downing shots en route to the sweaty blacklit discoteque downstairs on weekends. Inexplicable, and unmistakably the only place with a pulse on Szeroka.