Visiting the capital of the federal state of Saxony, Stephen Bailey is welcomed by good-natured locals in a city rebuilt after almost total destruction in World War II.

Five minutes from the central station and I’m already witnessing Dresden’s determination to be different.

A bright red lady with a little hat and pigtails is telling me to wait. Now she turns green and marches with purpose, those pigtails seeming to sway despite the fact that she’s a pedestrian traffic light.

East and west Germany still cannot agree on the figures that tell people when to cross the road.

The eastern ampelmannchen are funky-looking men who add a jolly dose of humour to street life.

Dresden has taken this cult leftover from the Iron Curtain and made it non-sexist. Dresden residents certainly need a sense of humour. Before communism, the city was decimated by Allied Forces marching Hitler back to Berlin. Sixty per cent was razed to nothing and 25,000 people were killed in just three days.

With the recovery in full force, locals joke that the old part of town is now newer than the new town.

Dresden was one of Europe’s bourgeois cities.

An opulent opera house reminisces about the 18th century, ornate sculptures covering the outer walls. Through an open archway, I enter an impossible shrine to admire baroque architecture.

Walkways are marked by angels and muscled warriors, elegant curves lead my eye on a merry dance and the simplicity of the faded stone adds to the ambience of the Academy of Fine Arts’ domes and a Renaissance-era fort. Did all this grandeur survive the blitz? Or has it been completely rebuilt?

Dark marks covering the stone suggest the former, while the perfection of statues indicate careful restoration.

The answer is somewhere in between. Soviet policy left the ruins untouched, keeping them as reminders of how “bad life used to be”.

In the past 20 years, they have once again been able to hint at Dresden’s 18th century riches – but it’s just a glimpse.

As I explore more intricate brilliance, the feeling of wonder is tinged with sadness; this is all that could be saved...

Not that Dresden dwells on the past. Across the river is the Outer Neustadt district, an area that has developed its own alternative present.

Record shops stand beside funky cafes, vibrant graffiti paints indecipherable stories and street corners are filled with dreadlocked people swigging from beer bottles.

Before 1989, Dresden was firmly under the spell of Eastern world media propaganda.

Unlike Berlin, it was impossible to receive radio or TV broadcasts from the West. When the Berlin Wall fell, the youth of Dresden quickly broke free from their monotone cultural shackles.

A jazz bar is set in an old painted train wagon. A music store rents out saxophones to wannabe buskers. Further along the street I find enough vegetarian cafes to last me a month.

On the alternative scale this area cannot match Berlin’s famous Kreuzberg district, but I find myself more accepted than in Berlin.

It’s easy to feel the stares of cultural rejection in Kreuzberg, especially if you look like a day-tripping tourist.

When the Berlin Wall fell, the youth of Dresden quickly broke free from their monotone cultural shackles

In outer Neustadt, it’s as if the community is willing me to join. People stop me on the street and tell me about a free local gig.

I’m given a non-commercial alternative city map for young travellers, dotted with places like the Flipped Out Cloth Shop and Wasteland Clubzone.

Locals gesture to empty cafe seats besides them and nobody seems to frown at what I’m wearing, even if I can’t quite match their rather strange outfits.

I’m interpreting it as 1960s cheerleading-meets-shaggy chic, but I’m sure they wouldn’t like being labelled.

Walking from outer Neustadt to the main train station is like passing through an ode to political ideologies in 45 minutes.

It starts with this new-age socialism, then cuts through reminders of communism, great 1960s and 1970s apartment blocks juxtaposed with the remains of food stores that once required ration cards.

The luxury and wealth of the Prussian empire beckons as I recross the river and once again find a baroque architectural paradise.

Continuing west, I walk past the world’s largest mosaic, 27,000 tiles detailing every Saxon leader from 1127 to 1873AD.

Judging by the gold crowns and huge stallions, these were not democratic times, particularly when every king was called Freidrich.

Finally I’m out into westernised Dresden, a shiny, pedestrianised street of McDonald’s, H&M and all the other international chains that make high streets indistinguishable. My alternative Use-It map reflects on when Starbucks opened: “People lining up for coffee? Like in communist times for bananas? Excuse me, where is the progress?”

Dresden’s modern present certainly isn’t pretty, so I’m taking the train back in time. Eissen is 20km away and looks like a town from school history books.

Cobblestone streets weave past colourful houses, gradually narrowing as they reach the crumbling cathedral.

Cute shops sell porcelain figures, while old men chatter on a quiet market square.

From its summit, Eissen gazes down imperiously on rich green forests. From below, it seems to be slowly disintegrating as it slips off the side of a hill.

All around Dresden there are treasures hidden in the forest, playgrounds for the Saxon kings.

Like the 16th century Moritzburg Castle, standing proud on a pristine woodland lake, or the Japanese-style Pillnitz Castle, or the decaying ruins found in the Saxon Switzerland National Park.

It would take a couple of weeks to experience all the day trips that surround Dresden. Yet my highlight from every day is my short wander between the city’s distinct districts.

Dresden is halfway between Prague and Berlin, just over two hours’ drive from these famous European cities.

For the grace of old Europe, Dresden easily matches Prague for quality. For the vibrant modernity of east meets west Europe, Dresden can be as appetising as Berlin.

Yet its indelible appeal is its ability to combine something for everyone in a cute, walkable package.

One side of the river is tourist heaven, the other welcomes tourists as if they’re long-term locals.

After a coffee beneath the old opera house, I’m drinking a beer in a pink and black painted café.

Just when I think I’ve seen all of Dresden, a purple painted street-artist points to an underground 18th century vault.

I make sure I wait for the woman in pigtails before crossing the road...