Baghdad Iraq

Soaring prices. Precious few homes. Bidding wars. Sound like Southern California a few years back? Welcome to an unexpected bright spot in global housing: Baghdad. Attracted by news of decreased violence, thousands of displaced Iraqis returning to Baghdad's safer neighborhoods are fueling a bit of a real estate frenzy. Last year, home prices plummeted and rents dropped as Iraqis left town in search of more stability.

I was only trying to do what millions of Angelenos do every day: commute home from work. But even when things are good here, they can quickly turn bad. First, I made the mistake of talking on my cellphone as my bus passed through an Iraqi army checkpoint. A soldier stopped the bus and ordered me to get off. He threatened to detain me. I smiled and apologized, pleading forgiveness and explaining that I had received an urgent call. He let me get back on the bus, and my journey continued.

The bullet-riddled body of an Iraqi newspaper reporter was recovered Tuesday in Baghdad, and police in the southern city of Basra began an intensive search for a Western journalist working for CBS News and his Iraqi interpreter. Journalists have been frequent targets in Iraq, which the Paris-based Reporters Without Borders said remained the world's most deadly country for media workers despite recent security gains.

Iraqi soldiers spotted a suspicious-looking woman Sunday in an upscale neighborhood of Baghdad and fired at her after seeing wires in her hands. The woman, dressed in a traditional abaya, was carrying explosives that blew up as she staggered into a nearby electronics shop. Iraqi police said three people were killed in addition to the bomber and eight injured in the blast in Karada. The U.S. military, however, said the only fatality was the bomber.

Mohammed Jabiry charts the progress of Iraq through the colors of its walls. Institutional white is soooooo Saddam Hussein, Jabiry said Sunday, pointing to the colorful squares on a sample chart from Modern Paint Industries, a state-run enterprise. Nowadays, juicy-fruit colors such as clementine orange and jasmine yellow are growing popular, a sign not only of Iraqis' changing tastes but perhaps of their brighter mood, said Jabiry, who is Modern Paint's chief engineer.

Five U.S. soldiers and an Iraqi civilian were killed Monday in a suicide bombing while chatting with shopkeepers in central Baghdad, part of an uptick in high-profile attacks that has rattled the capital after months of diminished violence. Early today, the U.S. military announced that three more soldiers were killed by a roadside bomb Monday in Diyala province.

Stray bullets streaked through the sky. Mortar shells and rockets thundered into residential areas sapped of street life except for the few people willing to venture beyond their front gates. A walk in his own backyard proved deadly for one man. He was hit by a wayward bullet in his neighborhood in Baghdad, where fighting between Shiite Muslim militias and Iraqi and U.S. forces has revealed how shaky Iraq's security situation is.

When I feel uneasy, the only thing that relaxes me is to go shopping in my neighborhood bazaar. The busiest time is about 5 p.m. Lots of people come to buy groceries, glasses of fruit juice and snacks to enjoy as the heat of the day begins to ebb in the Iraqi capital. But the last time I went, the bazaar wasn't nearly as crowded as it should have been. The vendors had piled up their fruits and vegetables in neat rows and were polishing them to make them shine, but few people were buying.

For months, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Luis Falcon patrolled the downtrodden neighborhoods of Baqubah, where Sunni Muslim extremists had tried to create an Islamic caliphate. One day, he came upon a young girl sitting in an old, oversized wheelchair, blood crusted on the stumps where her legs had been. Her name was Shahad Abbas Aziz, and on Friday, the 12-year-old sat patiently in a clinic in Baghdad's Green Zone while doctors measured what remains of her legs.

Love is in the air in Yousif Mohammed's shop. So is death, but that's OK, because Mohammed's business is selling flowers, and in Baghdad, where bouquets rarely top shopping lists these days, weddings and funerals are his mainstay. It wasn't always like this. Before the war, Iraqis loved buying fresh flowers to brighten up their homes and offices, or to present with a flourish to the objects of their affection.