Jason Florio "Iraq" | Messineo/Wyman

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On Monday and Thursday nights Baghdad explodes with the sound of car horns, the burst of trumpets and the bash of hand drums. With the ensuing cacophony that rolls into the parking lot of the four star Le Palestine hotel on Abunuwas Street appears a series of brides and grooms. Grooms in ill-fitting suits and shaky young brides in cakey white makeup get herded through the 1960's-esque lobby for their first night alone together. The bridal parties both Christian and Muslim have been celebrating at wedding halls adjacent to Le Palestine hotel. Mondays and Thursday nights have been traditionally reserved for nuptials in Baghdad, but with the looming threat of invasion the once small handful of newly weds that crossed the hotel lobby has turned into a continuous parade. Celebrations at the wedding halls where families sit at long tables eat rich wedding cake and pick from small plastic bowls of chickpeas are booked back to back. In times of economic hardship couples often double up for joint celebrations to save money. Wedding photographers work full time for the hall and charge fifty cents for each print.

The threat of war is ever present in the minds of the Baghdadis. The loss of all that is normal grows more apparent by the day. For the women of Baghdad, the beauty salon has become a sanctuary, where the psychological weight of twelve years of sanctions and imminent attack are temporarily lifted. The salons cater to all social and religious groups; Christian Assyrians, orthodox Christian and Muslim. The womens' choice of salon is not based on religion of owner, but on personal preference. A wash and cut at one of the numerous, but less salubrious parlors runs an average of one dollar. In the wealthy karada area of the city, near the un's favorite Italian restaurant "coral pizza" and adjacent to "kickers" (a store that the Hussein family regularly places large orders of western kids clothing and toys) is the chic Madam Caro's salon. Frequented by the upper echelon of Baghdad society, madam Caro's offers a cut and color for between $4 and $6. Her customers, although financially able to leave Iraq for safety, all said they would not desert their home of Baghdad if war occurred.

The red double-decker buses give you the squeewed feeling of something very familiar and normal. The markets, abundant with fresh fruit and vegetables make you wonder about the thousand of Iraqi children suffering from malnutrition. The rows of stalls selling "bootleg" DVD 'Crocodile Dundee' movies and Brittany spears CDs for 50 cents make you feel that the desires of its populace are not so different from the west. People shout from cars..."hey welcome to Iraq… thanks for coming!". At first when people would ask me where I was from and I would say..."I am not American... I'm half English half Italian"... some how trying to deflect any reproach... but people would say "we have no problem with the American and English people...just the governments". The 'Iraq daily', an English newspaper gives a lot of coverage to the peace rallies around the globe, and for many Iraqis it gives them some solace that there is a definitive difference in desire between the western governments and the public.

To the untrained eye Baghdad seems like a normal middle-eastern city. A fusion of yellow nicotine stained coffee shops and out of date futuristic architectural anomalies, such as the Saddam Tower. A hundred and twenty five meter phallus with a revolving restaurant at the top... The best views of Baghdad... "sorry no cameras". The car of desire is a GMC suburban (which you can fill the tank for less than $2), but the normal Baghdad run-a-about is a VW Passat long past scrapping date. Anyone with a car is now a taxi driver. Money is scarce, so with gas prices less than water it makes economic sense to drive someone clear across Baghdad for 25 minutes for seventy-five cents. As in other closed countries your driver will no doubt be a doctor trying to supplement his five dollar a month salary.