The Iraqi foreign minister, Hoshyar Zebari, waited on a red carpet inside the foreign ministry for officials from neighboring countries, other Middle Eastern countries and the Group of Eight industrialized nations. It was the second meeting of its kind to bring together Iraq's neighbors to discuss the nations' security.

The minister chatted and joked with a New York Times reporter while the rest of the media was relegated to stand behind red ropes and watch him greet guests. Before each delegation entered the hall, they shed their body armor and helmet, shook hands with the minister and smiled for the cameras sans personal protection.

There was the large Iranian delegation in suits with no ties, the Kuwaiti, Saudi and Bahraini delegations in the flowing white traditional dishdashas, an Italian delegate in tortoise shell glasses, and the American delegation in business suits. Then there were all the guards; British, American and South African guards lined the walls of the sixth floor and flags of the diplomats they were protecting were pinned onto their body armor.

Politicians hailed this as a sign of progress in security. All these officials could come together safely in Baghdad. But outside the ministry, bridges across the capital were blocked off to safeguard the building, sending Iraqis into panic as they tried to make it to work and school on Sunday morning, the equivilant of a Monday in the United States.

We drove through the streets trying to make it to the foreign ministry. At the Jumhuriya Bridge in central Baghdad, one of the main bridges in the capital that connects the east bank of the river to the west, we were stopped. On the other side were the places I needed to be, the heavily fortified Green Zone, the Iranian embassy and the Foreign Ministry were out of reach. We begged the Iraqi soldiers to let us through.

"Not even generals can pass over this right now," he said. I called the Foreign Ministry but they’d made no efforts to ensure that the journalists they invited could make it through the maze of blocked roads. So with tens of other Iraqis we abandoned our cars and walked the 25-30 minutes to the ministry.

As we strolled over the bridge that connects the two banks of the river, young students scurried to make it to their exams on time, women and men dashed off to work and large U.S. convoys rolled through the street. We passed men waiting at kabob and shawarma vendors, the equivalent of hot dog stands in the states, waiting for hot meat sandwiches. Inside a barber shop an Iraqi man got his morning shave then the barber used thread to rip stubborn hairs from his face. I’m not sure if the curbs of the sidewalk were shattered into pieces because of abandoned reconstruction projects or violence.

We stepped over concertina wire and random police officers asked to search our bags. Finally we arrived at the ministry. We were patted down, our phones were taken and after checking us off the list we were allowed inside to watch officials hobnob in a town safe enough to hold such a meeting.