A photo-opportunity with a certain Colonel Gaddafi

We cross Green Square, the plaza at the heart of Tripoli, dodging the swarming taxis. We nip past the men selling freshly roasted nuts and the couples out for romantic strolls, and reach our goal. There on a giant poster is an image of the Great Leader looking rather youthful as he sits behind the wheel of a Volkswagen Beetle and careers along a whitewashed street chucking pieces of paper from his window. Sadly it is not advertising a Libyan remake of The Love Bug; it's just another billboard proclaiming the mighty deeds of the man in charge around here, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi. Our tour guide explains that, in 1969, "The Leader" (you soon notice locals feel uncomfortable saying his name aloud) travelled across the country in a VW, stirring up revolutionary fervour against the ruler of the time, King Idris.

We cross Green Square, the plaza at the heart of Tripoli, dodging the swarming taxis. We nip past the men selling freshly roasted nuts and the couples out for romantic strolls, and reach our goal. There on a giant poster is an image of the Great Leader looking rather youthful as he sits behind the wheel of a Volkswagen Beetle and careers along a whitewashed street chucking pieces of paper from his window. Sadly it is not advertising a Libyan remake of The Love Bug; it's just another billboard proclaiming the mighty deeds of the man in charge around here, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi. Our tour guide explains that, in 1969, "The Leader" (you soon notice locals feel uncomfortable saying his name aloud) travelled across the country in a VW, stirring up revolutionary fervour against the ruler of the time, King Idris.

I insist on having my picture taken against this odd backdrop. But just as I'm about to say "Goat's cheese", a man rushes up, arms waving. "Be careful," he warns us. "If the police see you, there will be trouble." It turns out he's a Serb who, like me, recently saw this as a photo opportunity and ended up getting an ear-bashing from the local constabulary when he flashed his camera. Our guide intervenes, insisting the man is mistaken. The snap is taken and, thankfully, no police appear.

I am in Tripoli because the country is making some modest efforts to attract Western tourists. In part, this is because Libya is planning to bid for the 2010 World Cup. The bid is being championed by the colonel's son, soccer-crazy Al-Saadi Gaddafi, who fronts the Libyan investment firm that owns a chunk of the Italian team Juventus. Although the words "fat" and "chance" come to mind when considering the likelihood of the bid succeeding, it is forcing the country to improve some of its tourist amenities. The most spectacular breakthrough is the opening of the British-designed Corinthia Bab Africa (a terrible name, but more of that later) hotel next to the old medina. It is the first Western-standard five-star hotel in the city.

The Corinthia Bab is a joint venture between the Libyans and Corinthia, an international chain based in Malta (which, incidentally, is 45 minutes by plane from Tripoli, a fact that pops up in your mind whenever you yearn for a beer in this officially dry country). The hotel has all that you would expect of a five-star joint: large gym, indoor and outdoor pools, a pukka business centre, chic bedrooms decorated with just enough Arabic touches to let you know where you are in the world, and six restaurants offering everything from local delicacies to fresh fish. And good staff. It also has a lot of paintings of Mr Big. But, enough of all this style and safety - back to the square.

The architecture around Green Square tells the history of Libya, from the ancient fort that now houses the National Museum, to the Arabic market and modern offices. But the most dominant buildings are the imposing banks and apartment blocks constructed in the severe Fascist style. These were erected after Mussolini invaded Libya in the 1920s, claiming it for his new Roman empire.

The Italians remained in control until the Second World War when the Brits and Americans rolled into town, but during their brief reign they had a powerful effect on Tripoli, not all of it bad. For example, walk down the Italianate boulevards and you will find cafés serving cappuccinos. And in Tripoli the standard way to say goodbye is still a simple "Ciao".

We are in the city, however, just days before a national day marking the booting out of the last Italian settlers in the 1970s. As we walk along the streets shopkeepers are erecting emerald-green national flags outside their premises to celebrate the interlopers' eviction from Big Brother country. In one small bookstore I notice Colonel Gaddafi's revolutionary tract, the Green Book, for sale. I wander in and discover that it is being sold alongside that Ladybird classic The Little Red Hen.

At least the shops are all open and well stocked with cheap clothes and electronic goodies. We are told, however, that the city was virtually mothballed, its stores often boarded up, during the peak years of United Nations sanctions from 1992 to 1999. (The sanctions are suspended, and could soon be dropped.) These crippling controls followed the failure of Libya to hand over two suspects following the blowing up of PanAm flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland, in 1988. But following the eventual trial Colonel Gaddafi, and Western governments, seem to want to move on from that dark time, although the US still has embargoes in place and has yet to reopen its embassy.

But the shopping is actually better on the other side of the square, away from the Italian quarter, in the meandering alleyways of the medina. Here you can have copper saucepans made for a few pounds, buy herbs and spices and snap up CDs of Arabic music (forget those expensive Buddha Bar remixes of Middle Eastern tunes), although locals are keener on inspecting the ornate fabrics for wedding dresses and glitzy displays of jewellery.

Despite all the hardships these people have been through, nobody treats Westerners with anything other than courtesy. Even when you walk through the more dilapidated parts of the old town, down dusty, rubble-strewn streets, past the crumbling houses that are home to migrant African workers, you feel safe.

Before we leave Green Square, we amble around the National Museum which holds a collection of amazing treasures from the country's Phoenician and Roman past - its Mediterranean coastline has always been a much-prized strategic catch. But the greatest sight is the colonel's VW Beetle, the one from the poster. It's squeezed in among all the Roman treasures - just to make sure you realise that the guy now in charge is just as mighty as any of those old emperors.

It's hard to believe any Libyan is taken in by such foolery. And there is a lot of foolery at play in Libya, a feeling that things are just a bit bonkers. Take the hotel, the Corinthia Bab Africa. For the first few weeks it was the Corinthia Towers but then the name was changed to something more in line with Gaddafi's current obsession to be the leader not of the Arab world (he feels his Arab brothers let him down during the years of full sanctions) but of Africa. "Bab Africa", you see, means "Gateway to Africa".

Then there's the business with the cameras. How can you encourage tourism, let alone the world's footie fans, if you don't want people taking holiday snaps? Even the hotel warns that "you are likely to have your camera confiscated if you point it at police stations or major ports". The whole of Tripoli is, of course, a major port. Oh, and all adverts are banned (unless they feature you know who). Then there's the money. Libya makes a mighty $9bn a year from oil sales and has a population of about five million. Yet the place looks poor. Tripoli is fascinating, but it has none of the vibrancy of Marrakesh, nor the excitement and glamour of Cairo. But for the tourist, these things are just oddities, not irritants, and they don't stop you from meeting people. Libya is not the sort of dictatorship where people are scared to talk to foreigners, although conversations about politics are not to be recommended.

It's not Tripoli, though, that holds the real excitement for visitors. Dotted along the Libyan coast are the spectacular remains of vast Phoenician and Roman cities. The most celebrated of these is Leptis Magna. The following day a group of us heads out in a minibus, with our tour guide, east along the coast road, to visit this Unesco World Heritage Site.

The first thing I need to say, however, is what a load of rubbish. Wherever you look, the countryside is strewn with plastic bags snared on shrubs, ditches filled with mineral-water bottles, scraps of paper caught on the wind. Our guide says he can't explain it. I think he is embarrassed. Later I am told it is another consequence of the sanctions: rubbish collections stopped, people lost heart, gave in. Or perhaps, I suggest, locals have been inspired by the Herbie poster and have been lobbing papers from their car windows as a revolutionary act?

Luckily there are other things to divert the eye: camels sitting in a truck, a horse on the back of a van enjoying the wind in its mane, stalls selling brightly coloured tagines, piles of watermelons for sale, crumbling Italian churches, roadchecks...

And then we reach Leptis Magna. First let me do the Time Team bit and give you the ancient history in a few sentences. Founded in 600BC by the Phoenicians, Leptis Magna was taken over by the Romans in 46BC. It flourished as a port, especially under Septimius Severus (a local lad). It later fell under the rule of Vandals and Berbers before being abandoned following a massive earthquake. Then it disappeared under the sands until Mussolini's mob arrived determined to prove that Libya was rightfully Italy's.

The Fascists spent a fortune on archaeology and uncovered, and even re-erected, numerous buildings - from the humble shops to the spectacular forum, the stunning theatre and Hadrian's baths where you can see the marble-lined pools where people swam, the steam rooms, even sit in the communal loos.

Under the harshest sun, we spend a day exploring the city that was once home to more than 60,000 people. We walk along roads that are as even as the day they were made. The scale and grandeur are awesome. There is also a beautiful museum. Biggest thing there? A giant cut-out of Gaddafi. But ignoring this tacky propaganda, Leptis Magna alone is worth the visit to Libya - although we are the only people there.

During our stay, we also visit the Roman city at Sabratha (impressive, but not if you have been to Leptis first); go for a candlelit dinner in an old Turkish house in the medina; and hang out at the funfair in Tripoli where people go in the evenings to smoke hookahs and have a go on the Titanic bouncy castle.

The final excitement comes two hours before we are due to leave: I discover that I have lost my airline ticket. After much flapping on my part, and some calm negotiations among the guide and hotel staff a new one is issued with just minutes to go. Phew. For a moment I was thinking I might need to borrow a VW Beetle for a few days.

The Facts

Getting there

Andrew Tuck stayed at the Corinthia Bab Africa hotel, Tripoli. For a deluxe guestroom, prices start from €150 (£105) per room, per night. For further details and reservations please call: 0208 943 4194 or (00) 218 21 3351 990 or email tripoli@corinthia.com, London@corinthia.com.

Air Malta flies up to 52 scheduled flights a week from Heathrow, Gatwick and Stansted, direct to Malta with easy onward connections to Tripoli. Prices start from £178 (travelling midweek and returning before 26 October) inclusive of all airport and government charges.

For reservations, call 0845 607 3710, www.airmalta.com

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