Samir was tired, we’d been doing lots of swimming today but I was intent on pizza. We travelled over to 52nd street to a place where we’d eaten yesterday. Samir was impressed by the young women there. But when we arrived the electricity was out and the emergency generator was not working.

I decided to go for ‘The best pizza in Baghdad.’ but Samir wasn’t happy. It was on the other side of town, and near the massive American base, very close to where a suicide-bomber killed many recently. Despite all of this (I’d heard so many good things about the place), I wanted to go. I persuaded Samir to drive.

The pizza parlour was wonderful, authentic, but expensive for Iraqis like Samir, about $4 a pizza. It had been a favourite with the Americans. But the owner wasn’t happy, business was down since the Americans were told they could not eat outside of the heavily fortified ‘green zone’ where they live. They fear they may be poisoned.

I sat enjoying the very authentic pizza. It tasted great… until I started reading the newspaper cuttings on the wall, of the recent suicide attack outside the American camp opposite. It had done $1000 worth of damage to the pizza parlour and killed scores of people. This is ‘Pizza Hut’ Baghdad style. I sat on my stool at the window concentrating less on the wonderful pizza, and more on the variety of strangers pulling up in their cars..