If you were transported to Bolesławiec in the 1970s today, it would be hard to believe that people did not feel poverty under communism. What they did have were pubs—more than you could imagine—and sometimes queues several dozen people long outside them. People liked to have fun.

Salaries that do not seem funny today

Average earnings in Bolesławiec hovered around 4,700–5,000 zlotys. They may not have been the highest wages in the country, but they were enough to live on—and quite well at that. A bottle in a shop cost 103 zlotys. Dinner for two with half a bottle of wine at a dance hall in Meksyk, NOT or Prnjavor cost around 300 zlotys.

The calculation is easy: an ordinary worker could afford three or even four dance-hall evenings a week. Every Saturday, there were at least three discos: NOT, Wizów, Polfa and afternoon dances in Zabobrze.

There were so many pubs you could hardly believe it

The list of establishments operating during that period is impressive: Kiełbik, Barbórka, Arieta, Kaskada, Starówka, Aniołek, Toscano, Zajazd Śląski, Piast (the one in the Market Square), Zacisze, Słoneczna, Prnjavor, Mikrus, Pikolo, NOT, Centralna (“Meksyk”), later known as Zodiak, the Military Casino, Faktoria…

And where Imperium stands today? There was no pub there, only a beer kiosk. The place was called “pod Trupkiem.” Not a very encouraging name, but apparently the beer tasted good. There was also Małpi Gaj—a beer kiosk near Centralna—and Słonie, meaning a beer kiosk on Bohaterów Getta.

Queues and no seats in the establishments

Today we complain that trendy restaurants require reservations a month in advance. Back then, people also had to wait—only in queues. Dozens of people lined up outside many establishments (although, strictly speaking, they were more often restaurants or bars). It was not unusual to wait an hour or more for a seat in a café.

Every establishment had its specialty. Pork knuckle ruled at Starówka. At Zajazd, it was tripe. At Kiełbik, eel. At Barbórka, breaded pork cutlet. No establishment lacked character, and each pub attracted regulars precisely because of what it did best.

And no one would have thought of calling in Magda Gessler to change the décor and menu. There was no need. The establishments had their own atmosphere, their own clientele and—most importantly—they were full.

There were fights, but they were fair

A modern reader might think that if things were so good, perhaps there was peace too—but the truth is that people fought until jaws and bones cracked, and were often broken. The fights were fair—one on one. No kicking, no extending one’s reach with a stick, knife or bottle. Women and girls were untouchable during altercations. What is more, they were often the ones who stopped fights, because no one had the right to lay a hand on a woman entering the fray.

Anyone who broke these rules was excluded from the community by various groups of friends and strangers alike. Today it sounds like a story from another era—because that is exactly what it is. It was a world with its own code of honor, which applied to everyone without exception.

What do we lack today?

The history of Bolesławiec during the Polish People’s Republic is not merely a sentimental journey. It is a story about a time that offered something many cities often lack today: lively pubs, crowded dance floors, establishments with specialties people could rely on, and a community that enforced its own rules. Does that mean things were better? Not entirely. But they were certainly different. And it is worth remembering that the next time we hear that things were bad in the past.