Mood

After three days of national mourning, life in this grief- and violence-stricken land limped back toward normal Monday as residents crept gingerly out of their homes to buy supplies, greet their neighbors and reanimate cityscapes that had turned into virtual ghost towns following the assassination last week of former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto.

The phone rings and Jo Rosano jumps to answer, thinking of the sound of her son's voice: Hi, Mom, it's me, Marc. But it isn't him. Rosano hangs up to resume scouring the Internet for news, brewing espresso, pacing, praying, crying and waiting -- as she has for the last five years. "Day and night," she says, "this is my life." Colombian rebels have held Marc Gonsalves and two other Americans hostage since February 2003, when their plane crashed during a drug surveillance mission for a U.S.

Shattered glass has been replaced, debris swept away and guests have begun trickling back to the Serena Hotel more than two weeks after Taliban militants killed seven staff members and visitors, sending a shudder through Kabul's foreign community. The psychological damage is proving to be harder to repair.

An unfamiliar sound echoed Saturday on the streets of Sadr City, where gunshots and bomb blasts had rung out for weeks: cars honking their horns. Traffic clogged the Baghdad district's Mudafer Square, which in recent days had been devoid of life except for Iraqi and American Humvees, rooftop snipers and a giant mural of Shiite cleric Muqtada Sadr's late father staring down from a burned-out building.

Clerics and politicians speak in hushed tones about the names drawn up for assassination. Guards stand outside their compounds clutching assault rifles, and handguns rest on desks. No one can be trusted. All sides fear that dark times are coming to Najaf, the spiritual capital of Iraq's Shiite Muslims.

The fiery dishes spiked with Sichuan peppercorns began arriving on the table, but Tang Xiulan and her friends remained transfixed by a television screen above the restaurant's front door showing images of rescue efforts in their home province. The past week has provided the most they had seen or heard of Sichuan since they immigrated to the United States -- some a decade ago or more. Unlike Beijing, Shanghai or Guangzhou, the cities of Sichuan are largely unheralded overseas.

The hotel where the 30 Democratic rule makers met Saturday -- to decide whether rules are rules or whether rules are made to be broken -- was within howling distance of the National Zoo. Outside the stately Marriott Wardman Park Hotel were clusters of women with "Hear Me Roar" placards in their fists who came from all over the country -- $4 a gallon be damned -- to make what could be a last stand for their Hillary.

It's a rare day when finance officials, leftist intellectuals and ordinary salespeople can agree on something. But the economic meltdown that wrought its wrath from Rome to Madrid to Berlin this week brought Europeans together in a harsh chorus of condemnation of the excess and disarray on Wall Street. The finance minister of Italy's conservative and pro-U.S. government warned of nothing less than a systemic breakdown.

After the fireworks stopped, the tears of joy or despair dried and the jubilant crowds straggled home, the magnitude of what happened on election day 2008 began to set in. Barack Obama was president-elect, the first black man in the country's history to claim the Oval Office. The response was as complex and varied as America itself: elation, shock, doubt, wonder and some hard feelings. Older folks put their trust in children they decided knew better.

California's Capitol has been shrouded in fog -- literally and figuratively. The literal fog is seasonal and can smother the Central Valley for days on end this time of year. The figurative fog is year-round. Both types are a curse. They depress moods, hamper vision and are characterized by denseness. The literal fog is called tule fog, and it is created on the ground.