Combining that quintessential Kazimierz aesthetic of tarnished beauty with a strange sense of sinister absurdity, spending too much time in this veteran boozer might have you feeling like you inhaled the Joker's goofy gas. Creepy sepia portraits of interwar nudes with glowing red eyes glare from the yellow newsprint-covered walls at the tuneless piano and patrons, while glass beads crackle in the doorway. Offering almost two dozen varieties of rum, this small dive bar is as good a rabbit-hole to go down as any; good luck wiping that smile off your face.