THE GUNS had momentarily fallen silent when I negotiated my way past rusting barricades and ventured into Martyrs’ Square. Two decades ago the heart of Beirut was a breathtaking and chilling sight. Whole buildings had been chiselled away by the impact of thousands of bullets, with large holes marking the entry points of artillery rounds. The once-bustling streets of Central Beirut, which had housed the city’s hotels, banks and government buildings, were destroyed.

A family of cats had colonised the parliament building, trees and bushes flourished outside old boutiques. The ground was carpeted with spent shells and shrapnel, and the odd tail fins of unexploded mortar rounds stuck out of the ground like metal shrubs. The only inhabitants were Muslim and Christian snipers who traded shots across what was known as the green line, the swath of destruction that dissected the city from the Mediterranean coast up to the mountains, leaving a giant scar through the heart of the divided capital.

It was impossible to imagine what Beirut must have been like before the war until a Druze fighter, acting as my guide, kicked down the door of what had been a chemist. He found a tube of decomposing ten-year-old suntan cream and some yellowing postcards depicting girls in bikinis frolicking on the beach in better times. We both laughed grimly at the thought of Beirut ever becoming a tourist attraction again.

Beirut now has defied our predictions. Old buildings have been restored, the rubble of the past has been swept up and trucked off into the sea. New hotels dot the landscape, and the only danger today is being hit by one of the crazy drivers, who have yet to drop some of their manic wartime habits, such as accelerating towards red traffic lights.

Where the old Opera cinema once stood in no man’s land, a shiny new Virgin Megastore today attracts Beirut’s youth. Around Riad Solh Square, where I remember sprinting across intersections to avoid sniper fire, trendy designer boutiques vie for space beside cafés and expensive cigar shops. Mosques, churches and long-forgotten archaeological remains have been restored and preserved.

At night the Corniche coastal strip is packed with couples strolling beneath palm trees. The streets in fashionable Ashrafiyeh are clogged with flashy new SUVs as young Beirutis go clubbing until the early hours. As one boasted: “Life is so easy in Beirut, even McDonald’s has valet parking.”

The war is viewed today as a period so far back in time that it is considered retro-chic. During a visit to the stunning Roman city of Baalbek, once the stronghold of militant Islamic groups, I came across a young woman running a souvenir shop selling Hezbollah T-shirts. In my day the group was best known for suicide attacks and kidnapping foreigners. Now that it is trying to go respectable it has branched out into merchandising.

One of the newest bars in the trendy Monot Street is 1975, a civil-war theme club where the waiters wear fatigues, the walls are decorated with sandbags and drinks are served in old ammunition boxes. The young barman, who was five when the war ended in 1990, said that he did not even remember the conflict.

That goes for many of the young Beirutis today. Almost every young professional I encountered, from a leading entrepreneur to an Armenian taxi driver and a skier at the winter resort in Faraya, had returned to Lebanon since the end of the war to play a part in the country’s rebirth.

The path has been long and painful, but it is finally showing signs of success. The Lebanese imagined that when the guns fell silent in 1990 they could turn the clock back to the glory days before 1975, when the country was known as the Switzerland of the Middle East — the main commercial and tourist destination in the region. Initially little changed. There were still deep wounds among the four major sectarian groups, a Syrian occupation army, continued conflict in southern Lebanon with the Israelis, and scant foreign investment.

Thanks in large part to the efforts of the former Prime Minister, Rafik Hariri, an extraordinary transformation has taken place. The Israelis have gone and the Syrians are far less visible. Central Beirut has been rebuilt with great taste. A new airport has replaced its hijack-plagued predecessor and a network of highways has revolutionised travel by car. When we arrived on the daily British Airways flight it took all of 20 minutes to go through Customs, pick up our bags and arrive at the hotel in the centre of the city.

But Beirut is still rough around the edges. Towering above the swanky Phoenicia hotel sits the Holiday Inn, still gutted and pockmarked from the war. Many of the poorer parts of the city, such as the sprawling slums in the southern suburbs, have not benefited from the reconstruction. While tourism is picking up in Lebanon, today’s Beirut stands little chance of regaining its commercial dominance, which has been supplanted by Dubai.

Instead Beirut will inevitably rely on its greatest asset — its people. Even in the darkest days of the war I loved the country because of its spirited, amusing and cultured people. Western visitors are still a rarity, and unlike many corners of the globe, British tourists are made to feel welcome. On two occasions, in the space of a four-day visit, complete strangers invited us to join them — once for a dinner with friends and another time for a family lunch on a Sunday.

On both occasions we had fascinating discussions with our hosts, who typically conducted the conversation in a rich and uniquely Lebanese blend of Arabic, English and French. The food and wine were delicious. The sun shone over the Mediterranean. It was hard to believe I was back in what had been the front line.

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NEED TO KNOW

Getting there: Richard Beeston travelled to Beirut with Cox & Kings (020-7873 5000, www.coxandkings.co.uk). A five-night break staying at the Mövenpick Hotel, including flights, breakfasts, private transfers and guided excursions, costs from £925 per person.

Where to eat: Restaurants along Abdel Wahab el-Inglisi Street in Ashrafiyeh include everything from brasseries to sushi bars, even a vegetarian restaurant and a bagel joint. But the best food in Beirut is Lebanese. For fish try le Pêcheur (Ain el-Mreisse, opposite Hotel Vendôme). We stumbled across a fantastic restaurant called the Gemmayzeh Café on Gouraud Street, near the port.

Nightlife: Clubs go in and out of fashion at speed; none kick off until 2am. Musichall, in the Starco building in Central Beirut, is a good place to start the night; also worth checking out is Crystal on Monot Street, currently Beirut’s flashiest club, and B018 on La Quarantaine, built on the site of one of the civil war’s biggest battles.

Hotels: The smartest hotel is the refurbished Phoenicia, owned by Intercontinental (0800 0289387, www.ichotelsgroup.com). The smaller Albergo (00 961 1 33 9797, www.albergobeirut.com) in Ashrafiyeh is well placed for bars and restaurants. The newly opened Mövenpick (www.moevenpick-hotels.com) is built into the cliff face at Raoushe, with four pools, a private beach, marina and health spa. Watch out for the reopening this year of the St George’s.

Further information: www.destinationlebanon.com.

Reading: Ask your hotel for the Promenade series, published locally.

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