It is 3am and through my double-glazed windows I can hear men shouting above the sound of revving car engines. My hotel room overlooks Martyrs' Square.

15 years ago, this area, Downtown, was a no-man's-land inhabited only by snipers, it is now the hip centre of the new, peaceful "Paris of the Middle East", heartland of one of the most glamorous, party-loving, hedonistic populations in the world. The sounds that woke me weren't of soldiers – just rich boys in their Ferrari toys, showing off outside the White nightclub, where they go to flex their platinum cards and shake their designer booty before racing off to the next venue, the next party. I'm in the New Beirut.

Breakfasting the following morning on the landscaped rooftop of Le Gray hotel with its Scottish owner, Gordon Campbell Gray, the scene is utterly serene. Water trickles over a glass-walled infinity pool. Guests shaded by taupe canvas umbrellas dip into fruit platters, flatbread still warm from the oven, herby Lebanese honey and thick, fragrant coffee. Church bells ring out from nearby Orthodox cathedrals, and then the muezzins' call to prayer fills the air from the minarets.