There's so much to love about Kadhemiya.

First off, there's the imposing shrine of Imam Moussa Kadhim, with golden domes and brilliant mosaic tilework, the anchor of this vibrant bazaar district in Baghdad. Upon first sight of the revered mosque, visitors stop in the middle of the street and whisper prayers. Shiite pilgrims -- not only from Iraq, but Iran, Bahrain, Kuwait -- kiss its massive doors for luck when they enter. Mothers haul their ailing babies into the sanctuary and pray over them. Grown men sob, pleading at the shrine for the release of kidnapped relatives, for job opportunities, for love.

On a recent visit I was searched from head to toe before I was allowed to enter the shrine area; the stepped-up security measures come from the recent rash of female suicide bombers with explosives hidden under their abayas. The Mahdi Army provides most of the protection for the compound, and the Sadr social services office is just a few meters away on the same street as the shrine. Before thugs and insurgents began infiltrating the Mahdi Army, the Sadr office was a serene and soothing stop on a visit to Kadhemiya. Once upon a time, baby-faced seminary students shyly chatted about their dreams of becoming marjas, high religious authorities. Now the courtyard is ruled by gun-toting toughs who dole out compensation payments to the mothers of young militiamen who've been killed or wounded in action.

Walking down the narrow streets, the bazaar's sensory overload kicks in.

The air smells of Najaf's signature pickles, rose water from passing pilgrims, fresh diamond-shaped bread and steaming trays of my personal favorite: snood al-sitt, which literally means "a lady's upper arm," and refers to a cream-filled, delicately flaky confection. You can stop to feed the pigeons in the shrine's courtyard or have a souvenir picture taken by a bilingual (Farsi and Arabic) photographer with a weatherbeaten Polaroid camera slung around his neck. A large and rapturous group of Iranian pilgrims was giving their tour guide a headache; the poor man was shouting in Farsi through a bullhorn in a fruitless effort to round them up.

Kadhemiya is a knickknack collector's heaven. Take your pick from electric waterfall fountains, toy sniper rifles, worry beads made from the clay of Karbala, lacy thong underwear, Iranian chadors, silver talisman rings and small whips for the self-flagellation ritual performed on certain Shiite holidays.Little boys hawking sets of miniature golden spoons to stir Iraqi chai tug on the sleeves of women's black abayas, imploring "Khala, khala!" Auntie, auntie.

Kadhemiya's gold souq is old and considered one of the best in Baghdad. The latest styles from Dubai compete with locally made jewelry such as the wildly popular gold pendants in the shape of the Iraqi map, with two indentions signifying the Tigris and the Euphrates.

But what I really love is the silversmiths' row, with rings of semiprecious stones etched with protective verses from the Quran. An old friend, a third-generation bazaari called Abu Ali, sells cheap pendants of tiny clear amulets filled with Zamzam water and a scrap of paper with a protective verse on it.

"Be sure to take it off before you go to the bathroom," Abu Ali reminds customers. "You shouldn't wear God's name to the bathroom."

It's been a ritual of mine for the past five years to visit Kadhemiya on the eve of my departure from Baghdad. I consider it a living tableau of Iraqi resilience, a reminder that life can be vivid and fun even against the backdrop of war. Right before I left, my friend and Baghdad bureau chief, Leila, and I set off for a couple of hours of shopping, with some Iraqi colleagues escorting us and watching our backs. We had a fabulous time, walking outdoors through the market's festive decorations for the Moulid al Nabi, the Prophet Muhammad's birthday.

It now seems that we were very lucky to have caught that last perfect day before the Mahdi Army's ceasefire frayed and areas such as Kadhemiya once again return to the rule of masked gunmen and mortar teams. From Basra to Baghdad, a rebellion is spreading and already is turning bloody.

Now I'm in back in Cairo, feeling guilty over leaving right before things fell apart, and hoping that all those pilgrims worshiping at the Kadhemiya shrine added an extra prayer for Iraq.