There is much to admire on Calea Victoriei, Bucharest's most famous thoroughfare, writes Anabright Hay.
Romanian princes, paupers, revolutionaries and aristocrats have all walked down Bucharest's most famous thoroughfare, the Calea Victoriei.
Me, I'm just happy to dodge the cars and walk in their footsteps.
Originally covered with logs, it was fully paved by 1825.
Perhaps no other street in Eastern Europe would have such stories to tell if its stones could talk.
Walking even part of its 3km length is to enjoy an architectural and historical feast, even if you have to chew on a fair bit of modern mirror-glass gristle.
Calea Victoriei had many names before 1878, when it was renamed to honour the victories won by Romanian armies preserving Romania's independence from the Ottoman Empire.
The street is still lined with fine houses, palaces, churches, hotels and shops, but the dilapidated state of some shows the street has seen better days.
Several jarringly incongruous modern structures are testament to tumultuous times and poor decisions.
But there is still much to admire, most dating from Bucharest's glory days in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when it was ‘‘the Paris of the East''.
I'm lucky to stay in two of its most famous hotels.
The Grand Hotel Continental opened in 1886 and became the gathering place for aristocrats and intellectuals.
An earthquake in 1940 caused severe damage and in 1944 further damage was inflicted when the central city was bombed.
But the most sombre period for the hotel, and Romania in general, was during the communist era, between 1948 and 1974.
During those years the hotel became an office building.
Happily, it has now been fully restored.
My room looks out on to the facade of the old National Theatre, now part of a modern hotel.
Every evening people gather on the balcony of the old theatre to enjoy drinks and laughter in the warm summer air.
The Athenee Palace Hotel, on the corner of Calea Victoriei and Episcopiei St, has an equally rich, if somewhat racier story to tell.
It features in Olivia Manning's 1960 novel The Great Fortune, part of her acclaimed work The Balkan Trilogy.
In it a young married couple, the Pringles, arrive in Bucharest in 1939 just weeks after the German invasion of Poland.
In the novel Bucharest is rife with tension and changing political values.
The English Bar at the Athenee Palace is filled with a colourful cast of journalists, diplomats, profiteers and European nobles.
‘‘Yakimov sighed. These signs of festivity sent his thoughts back to Christmases at the Crillon, the Ritz, the Adlon and Geneva's Beau-Rivage. Where would he spend this Christmas? Not, alas, at the Athenee Palace.''
While the English Bar still exists, the main stress facing those in the hotel foyer today is getting on package tour buses to go on city tours or Danube river cruises.
The hotel has undergone four renovations since its opening in 1914 and was designed by French architect Theophile Bradeau.
Originally much more ornate and highly decorated, it is now more streamlined in an Art Deco style.
Part of the Hilton chain, the Athenee Palace has not forgotten its past.
An interesting collection of photos, postcards and memorabilia is on display.
A palace of much grander proportions sits just across the road and houses the National Museum of Fine Arts.
Rather selfishly, my favourite art galleries are often the ones that few seem to visit.
The morning I visit this former royal palace I have the place virtually to myself.
First built as a private home by a wealthy trader in 1812, it later served as a royal residence in the mid-19th century.
It was chosen as the court of the first prince of the united principalities, Alexander John Cuza.
I wander through room after room of stunning ancient, medieval and modern Romanian art before tackling an adjoining wing containing a 12,000-piece collection of European art.
Not sufficiently sated with top-quality art in vast palaces, I take a short stroll to the Museum of Art Collections, which is housed in another 19th-century palace.
For many years this building served as the ministry of finance before becoming an art museum in 1948.
It contains the art collections of some of the wealthiest families in Romania, who were required by the former communist government to donate their collections to the state.
Once again I have the place almost to myself and even with the help of a detailed map find myself going around in rather pleasant circles.
By another lucky stroke of luck I am in Bucharest during the George Enescu Festival, a three-week classical music festival honouring Romania's greatest composer.
Some of the world's best symphony orchestras are playing and I even manage to buy tickets to some of the concerts and hear a Enescu composition.
Keen to learn a bit more about him I visit the George Enescu Museum at 141 Calea Victoriei.
Two large stone lions sit benignly at the entrance of the Cantacuzino Palace, a splendidly ornate building constructed in 1898 for the wealthy politician Gheorghe Cantacuziono.
Passed down through the family to Enescu's wife Maruca, the palace was never lived in by the composer.
Instead, he and his wife chose to live in a much more modest house at the rear of the property, which is also open to the public.
Both buildings provide a fascinating insight into the grand and humble world the composer and other Romanians of this era lived in.
The palace contains its own private theatre, where musical concerts are sometimes held.
Perhaps the most beautiful concert venue in the city, and possibly its finest building, is the Romanian Athenaeum with its baroque cupola poking perkily skywards.
The work of French architect Albert Galleron, it opened in 1888 and is where the George Enescu Philharmonic Orchestra is based.
Interior frescos on its totally round auditorium walls depict scenes from Romanian history. Having explored the residential northern end of Calea Victoriei, I find it is time for lunch.
A sucker for any venue featuring national costumes, I see several young girls in white blouses and green gathered skirts distributing menus.
The Caru cu Bere is one of Bucharest's oldest restaurants, having opened in 1879.
While undeniably touristy, it is also popular with locals.
The stained glass windows, painted ceilings and ornate woodwork have cameras clicking.
I pick an outside table and am soon tucking into some hearty Romanian fare involving minced meat wrapped in cabbage leaves.
Suitably fortified I am soon back on Calea Victoriei and standing in front of the old post office building, now the National History Museum.
While the interior is very impressive and the exhibits interesting, some local visitors are upset that much of it is closed for restoration.
A heated discussion in Romanian follows while they complain to the lady in the ticket office.
They do not live in Bucharest, so cannot easily return.
All this is explained to me in English by the two self-confessed ‘‘history buffs''.
They willingly answer my burning questions about the demise of the Romanian monarchy.
Descending the steps, I look across the street and spy a bank building of such magnificence that I just have to get inside it.
The home of the National Savings Bank, the CEC building, with its fabulous neoclassical facade and enormous entrance with mighty Corinthian columns, is a gem.
Designed by French architect Paul Gottereau, it was finished in 1900.
The doorman obligingly lets me inside, provided I don't take any photos.
The richly decorated central banking chamber is no longer used for banking.
Judging by the workmen stacking chairs, it is possibly used for work presentations and seminars.
Feeling suitably satisfied on the art front, but somewhat short-changed history-wise, I catch a taxi to the centre of the city and the Museum of Bucharest.
Housed in another lovely little palace built for another wealthy merchant in the mid-19th century, this museum is another secret treasure.
The maps, photos, coins and costumes, and especially the Sutu Palace itself, tell the story of the city at perhaps its most elegant time.
I can almost hear the rustle of ball gowns as I glide down its gilded staircase.
I buy some reproduction historic postcards in the museum shop and step back out into the glare of 21st century Bucharest.
● Anabright Hay paid for her own travel and accommodation in Bucharest.
