Where once military surveillance installations were perched on top of flats, now modern apartment blocks with hefty price tags are going up everywhere. The massive army barracks, for decades a target of bombs and bullets, are gone. No longer do youngsters indulge in that west-Belfast sport of hijacking buses and setting them ablaze.

An hour on the Falls, once one of Europe's most notorious districts, is enough to confirm it: the Troubles are over. Welcome to the new Belfast, and a transformed Northern Ireland, which this week goes to the polls to elect its 108-member Assembly, the product of the Good Friday Agreement.

The aim is to have a devolved government in place, a power-sharing executive which, the polls strongly suggest, would be headed by one-time implacable foes, the Democratic Unionist Party's Ian Paisley, hitherto the fiercest opponent of such change, and Martin McGuinness, Sinn Fein's number two.

That outcome would be another remarkable stage in the decade-long path away from violence. So much so that even Belfast's house market is booming. Prices jumped 37 per cent last year, and the average is near to £200,000, more than in Scotland, Wales or much of England. A rise of "only" 15 per cent is predicted this year. Mansions have sold in south Belfast for more than £2m, and the Lisburn Road, once host to oily bike shops, today has jewellers, fashion shops, art galleries. It's dubbed the Lisburn Ramblas.

Alison Campbell, the head of her eponymous model agency and a former Miss Northern Ireland, epitomises the new face of Belfast. Hardly any photo opportunity is complete without one or more of her people.

The middle classes are richer than ever. And this time, the Catholic community is benefiting strongly.

As for tomorrow's poll, the result is in little doubt, but the question is whether, post-election, the DUP and Sinn Fein can cut a deal. Peter Hain, the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, has set a deadline of 26 March for agreement. Most believe a political settlement is needed to underpin that. It may be possible because the IRA has disposed of its weapons and opted for purely political activity. And extreme loyalist groups have reduced their activities.

Some of the most vulnerable people live near the Belfast "peace lines", the brick and metal structures erected at dozens of flashpoint areas. Marie, a Catholic with four children, lives in the shadow of a 20ft peace line separating the Falls from the loyalist Shankill Road. "We had to get it made taller," she says, "because we used to get things coming over... every night and day - stones, bricks and petrol bombs. It's just the odd one now."

More than 3,700 died in the Troubles, but the conflict is receding; it's even something to laugh about. One theatre show proved how far Belfast has come. Its title? "The History of the Troubles According to My Da."