John Hicks/Corbis

Disappointed to find that much of central Paris now serves up the same street-level visual refrain as most American cities — Gap, Zara, Starbucks, Subway — friends visiting from Boston yearned for an urban adventure. Where could they go for a long weekend that hadn’t yet been subjected to the centrifuge of globalization? “Bucharest,” I replied, and they laughed out loud. “Bucharest!? Is there anything to see there? And what about the hotels and the food?”

“Trust me,” I told them, and wasn’t surprised when they returned three days later raving about the delicious strangeness of Europe’s sixth largest city (if you don’t count Istanbul and leave out Russia), which is a three-hour flight from most western European capitals. Vying for the title with Belgrade and Sofia, Bucharest is one of the last major European cities that hasn’t been pasteurized by gentrification or lost its soul to mass tourism. It’s an odd but lively mutt of a city — one that’s clearly seen better days but where something is also suddenly stirring. The locals love to have a good time, and the Romanian economy is chugging along pretty nicely.

To be sure, it wasn’t a place I fell madly in love with when I first went in the early 1990s. Wanting an alternative to the international menu at the Athenee Palace Hilton, I asked the concierge to suggest a restaurant where I could try real Romanian food, whatever that might be. “No, you don’t go out,” he said flatly. “Not safe.” That got my gander up. I’d lived in seriously lousy parts of Boston, New York City and London. So why not go out? “Mad dogs, mad people. You stay here. Please, don’t go,” he pleaded. Well, of course I did, but I got only a few blocks before having a terrifying run-in with a wild-eyed dog and then being surrounded by a flock of pan-handlers with wandering hands.

Marco Cristofori

But that was then, when the city, at once funky and then surprisingly elegant, was just beginning to recover from the demented reign of Nicolae Ceausescu. He razed dozens of churches and synagogues, gutted some of the city’s oldest neighborhoods, and built a grand boulevard on a base of radioactive mine tailings that leads to his completely bonkers Casa Poporului, or “House of the People,” the common parlance for a building that was then officially known as Casa Republicii. The second largest administrative building in the world after the Pentagon, it looks like it was inspired by the rejected plans for a Las Vegas casino by a second-string architect. Known today as the Palace of Parliament, it also houses Romania’s unexpectedly interesting National Museum of Contemporary Art.

My Boston pals accurately described the building, which took five years to build and wreaked havoc on Romania’s fragile finances, as “freaking weird,” and it’s true that the wacko splendor of the place, with its acres of Transylvanian marble, intriguingly hideous chandeliers, grand staircases and football-field-sized rooms, offers one of the most mind boggling lessons in the madness of Eastern Bloc communism to be found anywhere behind what was once the Iron Curtain.

The heavy hand of Ceausescu’s madcap urbanism notwithstanding, other parts of the city still live up to its pre-World War II moniker, Little Paris of the East. During the prosperous years from 1881 to 1920, Paris was indeed the inspiration for many of the city’s major monuments and public works, including the Arcul de Triumf and the Odeon Theater. Today, the liveliest part of the city is the Lipscani district, or Old Town, right in the heart of the city.

During the last few years, Lipscani has come on strong as Bucharest’s party district with the opening of dozens of bars, cafes and restaurants. The Dutch-owned Grand Cafe Van Gogh (Str. Smardan 9; 011-40-31-107-63-71 ) is my favorite for great coffee, good light food and terrific people watching. Also in the neighborhood are Caru’ cu Bere (Str. Stavropoleos 5; 011-40-21-313-75-60), which serves great beer in a stunning Belle Epoque setting, and the city’s two best clubs: the new Chat Noir (Str. Blanari 5; 011-40-740-10- 07-97), where a dressed to kill young crowd gets down to great dance music, and Mojo (Str. Gabroveni 14; 011-40-760-26-34-96), which has good live music.

Bucharest has museums galore, but the two not to miss are the absolutely fascinating Muzeul Taranului Roman, or Peasant Museum (Şos. Kiseleff 3; 011-40-21-317-96-60), and the delightful Muzeul Naţional al Satului Dimitrie Gusti, or Village Museum (Sos. Kiseleff 28-30; 011-40- 21-317-91-10). The Peasant Museum features exhibits of handicrafts, tools, textiles and other objects from all over the country, while the Village Museum, which was founded in 1936 by royal decree, is an open-air architectural museum of farm houses, wind mills and other buildings that were moved to the capital. Together, they not only offer insight into rural life in Romania — a country where most of the population still lives in the countryside — but also a bird’s eye view of its regional history and traditions.

Though the natives are wild about Italian food these days, you’ll want to eat local, and the best restaurant in town in which to discover that Romanian food is both hearty and delicious is Locanta Jaristea (Str. Georges Georgescu 50-52; 011-40-21-335-33-38). It serves delicious grills and ample helpings of mamaliga, the polenta-like dish beloved of Romanians, in the beautiful setting of an old villa with hilarious live entertainment, which might include violinists, someone playing a harmonica, and a chanteuse or two. The recently opened Hanu Berarilor Interbelic (Str. Poenaru Bordea 2; 011-40-21-336-80-09), which offers great Romanian home cooking — including dishes like carnati de oaie (mutton sausages) and mititei (grilled links of mixed ground meat seasoned with garlic, thyme and anise) — is another good address for a Romanian culinary experience, and many of the waiters speak English well, still not a given in Bucharest.

The Plaza Athenee has reigned as the city’s best hotel for years, but I also love the newly renovated Grand Hotel Continental (56 Victoriei Avenue; 011-40-372-010 300) for its terrific location, very comfortable rooms, friendly and professional young staff, and history — it was built in 1886, according to the plans of the architects Mr. Enil Ritten Forster and I.I. Rasnovanu, in German Renaissance style and was one of the city’s grandest hotels before falling into a long senescence that ended with a recent renovation. (N.B. It’s rarely necessary to pay the rack rates posted on its Web site; call or e-mail instead for their best offer.) For less expensive lodgings that are almost equally comfortable and well-located, the Hotel Rembrandt (Str. Smardan 11; 011-40-21-313- 93 15/16, ) is an attractively renovated 1925 option (just as long as you book a “business-class” room).

Oh, and if you want to make friends and get on with the locals, heed the slightly exasperated but well-intentioned advice of a good-natured young waiter at Hanu Berarilor Interbelic: “Please don’t tell us how surprised you are that Bucharest is a nice city. We know that. You’re the ones who think it’s on Mars. Please skip the Dracula jokes — Bram Stoker’s blood-sucker is probably the least interesting thing about Romania. And please bin your old donkey-carts-and-gypsies image of Romania before you come.” All of which is to say that it’s a better idea to wait and riff on this intriguing city’s exhilarating strangeness once you get home.