A generation ago, when Rostock was in communist East Germany and its vessels called at Scarborough with timber, there was always the chance that a sailor would jump ship. With a berth next to Sandside, the crews were tantalisingly close to some of the West's temptations – the Harbour Bar, an ice cream from Jaconelli's, political freedom...

To me their enclosed world seemed equally fascinating, but it was out of bounds without an elusive visa and all the other documentation of state approval.

Since then Europe has become a different place. The Germans have been reunited for almost 20 years and now it's possible to explore where those long-gone mariners came from. Everything indicates that Rostock's own seaside has changed beyond recognition from the Cold War era.

It doesn't have to worry any more about escapees, because the tide has turned. The focus now is on thousands of arrivals. By sea they come on cruise liners, yachts, and Scandinavian ferries, and discover a place that has re-established itself as one of Germany's favourite coastlines.

Rostock itself is a few miles upstream on the banks of the Warnow river and as long ago as 1323 realised it would be wise to guarantee its access to the sea. So it purchased the fishing village of Warnemunde (Warnow mouth) which today is a kind of Baltic version of Whitby, without the cliffs.

The similarities are striking. Tourism has become the economic force of both and the fish trade swims along nicely in the new order. Warnemunde's old quayside is as delightful as that flanking the Esk. The equivalent of the Magpie Café and its neighbours are places like Das Boot, where the menus could have been written in Yorkshire, except for Baltic herring and chips and perhaps eel broth, or you can buy direct from the fishermen selling from tables heaped with their catch.

Little gabled houses built for their ancestors, and cobbled streets of restored 19th century villas, cluster around the harbour before you emerge on another Whitby-esque landscape, with a slice of Bridlington too.

The scene includes a grand lighthouse, the local version of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution and a long breakwater as alluring as the promenade which almost keeps up with an expansive beach made for castles and where the Ostsee breeze is as keen as any beside the North Sea.

The prom has a couple of landmarks dating from the misnomer that was the German Democratic Republic. There's the curve-roofed Teepott – yes, tea pot – which accommodates restaurants and a sea voyage exhibition and the Hotel Neptun, once the preserve of the GDR's Party bigwigs and a magnet for the hard currency of the West.

Its Skybar café has abandoned Karl Marx for Earl Grey, or some might prefer "Ceylon" tea with their English breakfast or strudel. Best of all is the accompanying view. Away from the rooftops it's sand, sea, and ships – lots of them, great and small coming and
going through the narrow channel that once served different forms of dictatorship.

Boat trips from Warnemunde take in Rostock's port and shipyards, the scale of which helps to explain why they were crucial to the East German economy, and Hitler's Reich.

Much of the Hanseatic city's walled old town was destroyed during the Second World War because, apart from the docks, it was also close to the factory established by the aviation pioneer Ernst Heinkel.

In late April 1942, the RAF targeted one of the Luftwaffe's main production lines and a glimpse of the end result is on the cover of a leaflet in the Marienkirsche, showing the cathedral looming over the ruins. They say that its astronomical clock, the only one of its kind left in Europe, didn't stop and has been running continuously since 1643.

Time has healed much in a city which has struggled to find its place in the reunified nation. The Altstadt, including the Gothic town hall and Renaissance architecture across the square, has been rebuilt over the last half-century and among the streets devastated by Bomber Command there is now a Clarks shoe shop. It's a sign of the global economy which thousands protested against on those same streets last year when the leaders of the G8 leading industrialised nations met in Heiligendamm, Germany's oldest seaside resort, a few miles along the Mecklenburg-Vorpommern coast.

Debates on world issues can be much more accessible than that in these parts. They're advertised, and happen, in the unlikeliest places.

In a tourist board office they were promoting a public discussion on the tyranny of Stalin's rule.

Beat that.

We did. On a midweek afternoon, two of us were the only customers in the cellar bar of the Rostocker brewery until a group poured in, complete with projector and slides, writing pads, and a thirst for knowledge.

Within minutes elements of the geography department of Rostock University had turned the bar into a seat of learning. Unconventional, perhaps, but it's one way of ensuring that students turn up for lectures. Over litres of light and dark beer, the subject was climate change, storm surges in particular, we were told.

Given the weather's strange ways and now that the city no longer sends timber to Scarborough, maybe Rostock should at least be exporting the professor's findings to the East Coast. Ideally, accompanied by its fine ales.

How to get there
Economy flights with Air Berlin from Manchester to Hamburg (www.airberlin.com). There is a frequent train service to Rostock (about two hours), with a connecting service to Warnemunde. For accommodation information go to www.rostock.de.