Thursday, May 31, 2007
A meeting with the Pope
I was perplexed when I got the call to cover the visit of Kate and Gerry McCann to the Vatican. The story about their missing daughter, Madeleine, is huge in the UK and probably in Portugal, but over here in Italy and in the rest of Europe it has been mentioned only on a few occasions, and I wondered why the Pope would single out this particular missing child over the hundreds (if not thousands) who have disappeared around the world.
As a matter of fact there are three prominent cases of missing children here in Italy, and we never heard a word about them from the pope, not even on International Missing Children's Day (May 25.)
I made a quick call to the Vatican, and soon discovered that the McCanns were not going to be received in a private audience, but would instead attend the Pope's weekly general audience, which is an opportunity for tens of thousand of faithful visiting Rome each week to see him. I was also told the pope was not going to mention their presence when he greets pilgrims from around the world in various languages, but that he would offer them an "affectionate greeting" at the end of the audience.
The Vatican arranged for them to be seated in an area closest to where the Pope speaks from. It's a good spot because usually at the end of the audience if the Pope feels like it, he walks to the barrier and greets dozens of them who take along all sorts of gifts, pictures and other personal objects, as a present to him or simply to have them blessed. The McCanns brought along a picture of their missing daughter which the Pope blessed.
To any devout Catholic this a great opportunity to meet the pope up close and personal. But I think it is also a private affair, a moment in which people seek and obtain spiritual strength and guidance. A 30-second photo opportunity is unlikely to offer clues as to where Madeleine may be held, especially if this is being turned into a media circus. Indeed, with the exception of those sitting right next to them, very few in St.Peter's square today knew they were there. Vatican TV did show a few cut-aways of them sitting in the audience, but the Pope and Church officials did not publicly mentioned their presence (as they did for example with the representatives of dozens of parishes and Catholic institutions from around the world.)
In other words, I think the Pope did not want to become the latest player in a relentless media campaign that has seen football players and prominent businessman appeal for her release. But that is exactly what did happen, with headlines such as "Pope invites the McCanns" and "A papal audience" being repeated over and over again.
I don't know what it must be like to have a missing daughter, but I can imagine it is a horrible feeling. I would do anything, anything, to secure her release. The McCanns probably hope that local media here will cover their visit and spread the word around Italy (where as I said most people don't know who Madeleine is.) They know that the longer they can keep her picture on the front pages on newspapers around the world, the better chance they will have to find her.
But I couldn't help thinking whether this over exposure may not be a bit unfair of all those other missing children who have disappeared and don't get this attention.
From CNN's Rome Bureau Chief, Alessio Vinci
Friday, May 25, 2007
Six hours in Cannes
It's 5.30 a.m. and I'm sitting in the lobby of the plush Grand Hotel in Cannes with my editor James. We're trying to use the hotel's free wi-fi service to feed to the Atlanta news desk a report we've just completed on the start of Cannes Film Festival's 60th anniversary.
We are confronted by the irate night porter who accuses us of trying to sleep for free in the lobby of his hotel. A prickly debate ensues in which neither party fully comprehends the other. Finally he storms off with a uniquely gallic contemptuous wave of his arm, spitting the words: "Le Presse! Pah!" No comprehension problems with that.
We lose the internet connection. We mutter darkly that it's an act of revenge by the night manager and we haul up our equipment and trudge along Cannes' famous promenade, La Croisette, to the even more sumptuous Carlton Hotel. The staff here are much more welcoming to us as they prepare breakfast for their guests. We manage to feed our report and step back on to the promenade to find no taxis in sight and a 20 minute walk back to our apartment, carrying our gear. I have a screening to attend in three hours.
The possession of a press pass at the world's most famous film festival is no guarantee that you'll actually get to see any films. I have been promised an interview with British actor Jude Law and U.S. singer-songwriter-turned-actress Norah Jones along with the notable Chinese director Wong Kar Wei's concerning his first English-language film. "My Blueberry Nights."
It's clearly important that I see the film before the interview so plan to arrive an hour before the screening. To my horror, I find a long line of people stretching from the steps in front of the Palais. A very long line. Thoughts of grabbing a bottle of water or visiting the toilet to prepare for a cosy two hours watching a movie disappear with the obvious need to get in line as quickly as possible.
An hour later my neck is sunburnt and thought of water and the toilet have been ever-present for the past 45 minutes. The adrenalin surges as the holders of the coveted pink pass (mainly on-air talent) are admitted to the 2,000-seater cinema. After a wait during which I feel I can actually witness global warming around me, the humble blue pass (producers and wordsmiths) are admitted - but only about a hundred of us make it inside before the dreaded words are issued by security: "C'est complet!" I made the cut by just eight people.
I looked back at the confrontation blossoming behind me as 300 lightly toasted members of the international press corps discover that their morning standing in the sun has been entirely fruitless. I imagine the Liverpool fans who were refused admission to the Champions League Final unknowingly share a common bond with this unhappy group.
As one of the lucky ones I was able to bask in my good fortune just as far as the entrance to the theater. That was when I realised that getting inside and getting a seat inside provided another stratum of separation. The lights were already down and through the dark I could make out silhouetted heads jostling for position and angry words exchanged in French, Italian and an Eastern European language I couldn't identify.
I have never before watched a film standing up. Nor have I done so with my back to the screen looking over my right shoulder compressed between several other unseen strangers; not to mention the contrasting distractions of a full bladder and a parched throat. After two hours of this my neck felt as if it had been dislocated and any attempt to return it to a more traditional vista met with excruciating pain, which served as an exceptional means of staying awake despite the nocturnal working hours of the previous night.
I'm not a critic but I regard it as a relatively positive measure of a film if it can sustain my interest and even invoke moments of considerable pleasure during such trying cirsumstances. As the credits roll I join the throng of other journalists racing for the after-screening press conference. I hear two aristocratic English voices discussing the merits of Jude Law's contribution to the film in less than flattering terms while complementing each other on their own wit and observations. The accents hint at a privileged upbringing and the tone of their conversation clearly belonged to that other privileged class - the one's who got seats!
With a derisory "Pah!" which might even have impressed the night porter of the Grand Hotel I stalk off round the corner to join the queue for the press conference.
My morning is about to take a turn for the worse as I spot the sign: "Ce'st Complet!"
-- From Neil Curry, Senior Producer, The Screening Room
Monday, May 21, 2007
Fans put dampener on live shot
I grew up watching the F.A. Cup final and I was excited to be there for the first time in person, and it was obviously more historic being at the new Wembley.
In the past I've covered important matches where there’s been a lot of supporter involvement but nothing can come close to what I experienced on Saturday.
Taking into account the behavior of some supporters throughout the day and the levels of intoxication, I knew it could be challenging to execute a straightforward live report. However, when I was given the green light and felt the first can of beer being poured on my head, I knew I was in for a wild ride.
I tried to ignore it and continue with my report as best as I could, but when the second wave of beer was upon me, it was clear that this was a deliberate attempt to sabotage our efforts and I had to reference what the viewer could see.
All that I could think was that I was doing a job, and I couldn’t let the action of these people affect what I was supposed to do, although inside I burning with revolt!
I cannot understand how human beings can behave in this manner and although I think inside the stadiums English fans are the best in the world, the way they act outside the ground, almost without exception under the influence of alcohol, is unacceptable and brings shame upon the image of the English game.
Watch the video here
-- From CNN World Sport Anchor Pedro Pinto
Friday, May 18, 2007
A trip deep into the human brain
What if scientists knew what you would do before you even knew? What if they could read out your feelings, your preferences and your inclinations even if you weren’t aware of them?
It’s not so much science fiction anymore. A team of researchers headed by John-Dylan Haynes at the Bernstein Center for Computational Neuroscience has developed a technique that can read out people’s intentions before they actually act on them, by analysing patterns of brain activity during the decision making process.
In a series of tests, subjects were given the option of adding or subtracting numbers. Haynes says he could clearly distinguish the brain pattern for adding from the pattern for subtracting before the subjects had actually performed the action. And he says soon, science will go even further: Determining actions, feelings and preferences long before people even know they are thinking of them. A trip deep into the sub-conscience.
"They wouldn’t even know. For them it was unconscious. So they have the impression that they haven’t even made up their mind yet. So it seems that their brain seems to be determining something before they themselves even become aware of it," John-Dylan Haynes says about his research.
Haynes says widespread use of mind reading devices and total observation are still a thing of the future, but he does believe, he tells me, that science has reached a point where society needs to debate and decide how far it wants researchers to go. He says the potential benefits are huge.
Mind reading technology could drive the development of brain-controled computers that would help people with disabilities manage their lives just by using their minds, and the technology could revolutionize crime fighting as the perfect lie detector and even help in the battle against terrorism, Haynes says.
"We might be able to tell from a brain activity pattern if someone has been in a specific place before, such as an al Qaeda terrorist camp. That’s something that we should be able to do within the next couple of years."
But what if a company could make the perfect cigarette, or food, or another product that perfectly targets reward systems in the human mind or if all your secrets were laid out to authorities on a regular basis? Haynes says that’s where he would draw the line, the only question at that point: Will scientists then still have the power to draw the line?
Watch my report
-- From CNN Berlin Bureau Chief Frederik Pleitgen
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Learning to live amid rocket attacks
We drove into Sderot on Wednesday a little before noon. Just after the first barrage of Qassam rockets had fallen on the Israeli town.
The streets were quiet. Occasionally we saw an ambulance or the uniformed girls from the civil defense force inspecting bomb shelters.
Our first stop was the Mayor’s office, a small and shabby municipal building in the center of town. When we entered his office, the Mayor had his feet propped up on the desk, leaning back and smoking a cigarette. He seemed very relaxed for a man whose town is under attack.
Of course, Sderot is used to it. It’s come under daily rocket attack for years now. But in that last three days there has been a dramatic increase, more than 80 have fallen in the area.
“It’s not about protecting Sderot,” the mayor told us in typically blunt fashion. “It’s about killing the terrorists.” He wants the government to take harsh action to root out Hamas in Gaza. But he doesn’t seem convinced that will happen any time soon. “They haven’t done anything,” he said.
There’s a poster on his office wall of the Mayor as James Bond. “Winner of the Golden Qassam” it says in big gold letters with a quote: “When you can’t trust the government, you can only rely on yourself.”
Our next stop was a home that had taken a direct hit from a Qassam rocket. When we got there, government inspectors were estimating the damage. The rocket had blown a big hole in the roof and slammed straight into the main bedroom, seriously injuring a woman and her two children.
When we got there, the family was still at the hospital. Only a guard was there with a cat that had somehow found a nest of rocket debris and blown-apart shoes to sleep in.
As we interviewed the Aflalo family next door, a group of Jewish students came by to give us some unsolicited opinions about the rocket attacks.
“They want us to run away, but we won’t,” said a religious man accompanying the students, maybe a teacher. He pointed to about five teenage boys with kippots on their heads skipping and dancing in a circle, holding hands and singing. “See? We will be happy and strong. We will make this a dynamic, vibrant place!”
He seemed very pleased with his declaration, but the Aflalos just gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned away. They had already decided to take their two daughters and spend the next few nights outside of Sderot, far away from the Qassam rockets.
As we drove around town, we saw other Qassam hits. In a residential courtyard. In a community center and local movie theater. Schools were closed which was good because the next day a rocket slammed straight into one.
We returned to the center of town where families boarded buses to leave. Medical workers distributed candy to the kids. A nearby salon was still open for business, despite the attacks. Customers in curlers and freshly washed hair watched the ongoing departure and debated the pros and cons of leaving town. Was it giving in to the terrorists? Or was it just common sense to leave?
But it also seems that Sderot residents are strangely proud to be the home of the Qassam rocket attack. In the front of the salon was a large picture of an elegant model with her hair done up in the shape of an incoming Qassam rocket.
Just then, people began yelling and I could hear my sound technician Oki shouting: “Atika! Atika!” I had no idea what was going on. I looked around and everyone was ducking into buildings or diving to the ground. “The warning! The warning! It’s another attack!”
But I didn’t move. I didn’t know where to go. Across the street, Oki waved to me frantically to take cover in the supermarket. Finally, I ran … straight into the vegetable stand. And just as I got there I could her first one boom and then a much larger BOOM!
But we were fine. The rocket landed a neighborhood away. We all looked in the direction of the blast and within seconds the sirens were blaring. The ambulances raced off.
But the people of Sderot? They just dusted themselves off and continued with their day. The families boarded back on the bus without much fuss. The salon ladies went back to their nails and their hair and a young couple came out of the supermarket licking scoops of chocolate ice cream.
Clearly, there’s something I could learn from this little town.
-- From CNN International Correspondent Atika Shubert
Au revoir, Gaza
Somewhere in Gaza, BBC correspondent Alan Johnston is marking his 45th birthday this Thursday.
Alan went missing on 12 March, and is now being held, it appears, by a group that goes by the name of Jaish Al-Islam, the Army of Islam.
In an audio recording posted on the Internet, the group is demanding the release, among others, of Jordanian-born Abu Qatada, an al Qaeda sympathiser currently detained in Britain. The British government has raised the issue of Alan with Abu Qatada, who has expressed a willingness to do what he can to win Alan’s release.
Wherever Alan languishes in Gaza, he can probably hear the sound and fury of the madness raging outside, as gunmen from Hamas and Fatah battle it out in the streets.
The brave Palestinian reporters in Gaza -- and I’ve spoken with many of them -- were stuck indoors while the gunmen struggle for control of the ruins.
Watching them, all of whom I know well, huddled in Ramattan Studios -- where the CNN office in Gaza is located, incidentally -- while a battle raged outside was stressful enough. Being there must have been 10 times worse.
But here’s the paradox: As a journalist who hates being office-bound, who hates watching news unfold from afar, who loves the field’s taste, smell, feel and adrenalin, I have to confess: Part of me, a big part of me, wishes I was there. Yes, it’s dangerous. Yes, it’s probably insane, and my wife would verbally whack me on the head repeatedly for even saying it, but it’s true.
"It’s a good thing you’re not there now," an Israeli official told me yesterday. "You would be a walking target." I know. I know.
But for me Gaza is important. I was there in July 1994, at the Rafah border crossing between Egypt and Gaza, when Yasir Arafat stepped foot on Palestinian soil for the first time since before the 1967 war.
It was pandemonium from the first moment he crossed the border. In the chaos as he got into a car to drive from Rafah to Gaza City, I jumped on a truck right behind him and rode all the way. Palestinians lined the road all the way north, cheering on their leader.
And as Arafat rode by the Israeli settlement of Kfar Darom (now abandoned and in ruins,) I watched as settlers on the ramparts booed and hissed him. In Gaza City I fought my way through the huge crowd that had jammed into Gaza’s main square to hear him speak. It was one of those days in a journalist’s career when you really felt like you have a seat on the front row of history.
Less than two weeks later I was in Gaza, at the Erez crossing between Gaza and Israel, when the first clash broke out between Palestinian security forces and the Israeli army. It was then, cowering behind a block of concrete as bullets zipped overhead, that I concluded the peace process, not even a year old with the signing of the Oslo Peace Accords in September 1993, was doomed to end in bloodshed and bitterness.
I heard many, many more bullets and explosions when I covered Gaza at the beginning of the second intifada. And it was in Gaza that I was shot in the back, at the Karni Crossing, on Halloween, 2000. Four years later I was in a taxi in Gaza when my colleague, producer Riyadh Ali, was kidnapped. And these are just a few dubious highlights of my time there.
Gaza is full of memories, some happy, many not so, but none forgettable. And I’m hoping that, sooner rather than later, I’ll be able to go to Gaza, and Alan Johnston will be able to leave.
-- From CNN Senior Correspondent Ben Wedemen
Trains make historic border crossing
Colorful fireworks light up the sky as the train leaves South Korea's Munsan station, heading north for its historic voyage.
We head into the station, ready to grab reaction from the spectators to this exciting and seemingly joyous event. But instead we head straight into a small group of protesters. And they are angry.
We are quite familiar with the group, mostly made up of Korean War veterans, a staple at anti-North Korean rallies.
One protester catches me by the arm and asks where we are from. Upon learning we are CNN, he says, please tell the U.S. that we need them to come in and wage a war on North Korea. He won't tell me his story, but just that he knows how awful the North Koreans are.
Ninety-four-year-old Cho Myung-Sun sobs when he tells me it broke his heart when he saw the train pull away from the station.
"When I was young, I used to ride the train back and forth from the north to the south all the time," he says.
Cho’s home town is in the north, but he left his parents and his sister behind when the war broke out and came to the south.
He never saw or heard from his parents again. He says he assumes his parents have all passed away, but as the train left, it hit him that he may also never see his home town again as well. "I wanted to be on that train so much."
-- From CNN International Correspondent Sohn Jie-Ae
Monday, May 07, 2007
Back in Baghdad
I’ve been away from Iraq for 6 months and a lot has changed.
For the first time a brake has been put on the runaway violence. Increased US and Iraqi troop presence in Baghdad has lowered the daily culls by death squads. Now only a dozen or so sectarian assassinations are discovered a day. During my last visit the daily average was well over thirty. Some Iraqis I know feel a tiny little bit safer, let their daughters go back to University classes not so long ago they thought would be their death.
Sunni Tribal leaders I met last year who complained of Al Qaeda’s dominance in the Sunni west of Iraq al Anbar now tell me they can walk the streets of Ramadi with me. I know Tribal Sheikhs would never do that unless they could guarantee my safety 100%. They claim to have routed al Qaeda. It’s a sea change, they now hunt al Qaeda and work with Americans. 6 months ago, for many of them, it was the other way round.
But this is still the Iraq I know. These new brakes are burning hot. Metal on metal. The daily death toll is climbing again. New supposedly secure gated communities in Baghdad in some cases are little more than islands of safety in a sea of al Qaeda relocated from the west. Big car bombs still kill big numbers. US bombing campaigns against insurgents and militias still incense Iraqis convinced the US is the mother of all trouble makers. And worryingly the Sunni tribal Sheikhs of the west still expect their new anti al Qaeda force will one day be aligned against Shia forces when the big civil war begins.
This sense of impending sectarian Armageddon seemed all the more possible when I met Iraq’s top Sunni politician, Vice President Tariq al Hashimi. Just getting to him though was a trip my Baghdad memory lane. Just like before security to meet these tops officials is dizzyingly tight. I can’t give away security details, our lives depend on these secrets too. But we were searched no less than 7 times before we could set up.
We sat waiting for the Vice President in a marbled floored well appointed modern air-conditioned room. The chairs were gilt, the cushions embroidered with gold thread, a modern artist had tried to recapture Baghdad’s tranquil days in pictures of riverside scenes with mud houses long since pulled down by the last regime. Not far away a car bomber was preparing to set of his explosives in a crowded market. 33 people had no idea they were about to die, but in this room I could imagine the brakes were holding. Two suited office workers chased earnestly with a fly swatter and spray in hand trying to eradicate a rouge fly lest it bothered the Vice President. Maybe Iraq really had changed. Then Vice President Hashimi came in. The fly was dead, the car bomb had another hour until it would go off. He had his own bombshell.
Vice President Hashimi told me he is ready to pull out of the unity government convinced the country’s Shias, Kurds and even American’s care little for his Sunni input. He’s set a May 15th deadline for changes to the constitution and has already told President Bush he’s more than fed up.
-- From Nic Robertson, CNN Senior International Correspondent.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Shopping scandal shocks Hong Kong
It is interesting how shocked Chinese tourists are at the thought of getting ripped off in Hong Kong.
These days the former British colony, which attracts over a million mainland tourists every month with its unique blend of Chinese and western tastes, is suffering from a tarnished image in China after a report last month on Chinese TV exposed how mainland tourists were duped into buying fake, overpriced watches and jewelry.
Beijing resident Wu Yelan told us she no longer planned to visit Hong Kong after her aunt got stuck paying top dollar for a cheap DVD player and fake watches. One tourist who dared to make the journey here said at Beijing airport she was "psychologically prepared" for her visit but planned to buy nothing.
Yet counterfeit DVDs, watches, jewelry, hand bags - you name it - can be found all over China.
So why the shock?
It is easy to dismiss their reaction as first time travelers' naivete but the implications for Hong Kong are potentially much greater.
Since Hong Kong returned to China 10 years ago, the city has thrived on its ability to abide by a higher standard than the rest of the country. International investors trust its financial markets. Companies believe in its courts.
There had been fears that Hong Kong would be overwhelmed by cheap competition from China in the core businesses that drove its economy. But, in fact, Hong Kong has maintained its edge because of its sterling reputation. Its well-regulated capital markets have been the number one choice for Chinese companies to raise funds. The professional management of Hong Kong firms have allowed them to stay ahead of their rivals. The city's reputation for retailer honesty is one of the reasons so many Chinese tourists choose to come here and shop, boosting the economy.
This is why the travel industry in Hong Kong has reacted so swiftly and strongly to the scam scandal. They are overhauling the compensation schemes for tour guides. They are thinking of extending their 14-day return policy to a whopping six months for mainland group travelers.
During this May "Golden Week" holiday, authorities are hoping to rebuild confidence in the retail sector.
Let's hope their strategy works for the good of Hong Kong.
Watch my report
From Eunice Yoon, CNN International Correspondent and Asia Business Editor
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Curtains for Kate Moss
I fear I may have jinxed the launch of Kate Moss's much ballyhooed clothing
line in London. Moss, the supermodel turned fashion designer, agreed to pose
as a mannequin in the window of Topshop in Oxford Street.
The London-based retail chain that paid Moss millions of dollars to create outfits to her liking for the masses, was determined to have Moss appear in a full-length chiffon number from her clothing line in the store's marquee.
Only a pane of glass and a red velvet curtain separated the supermodel from the hundreds of fans who lined up outside the store see her.
"I hope you guys tested the curtain," I whispered to a Topshop maintenance
worker. We were out of earshot of the pack of journalists following Moss to
the backside of the marquee inside the store.
"Don't worry - it has been sorted," he assured, as I pointed out a white
rope seemingly misplaced and hanging from the curtain top.
So you know what happened next. Topshop boss Philip Green leads the New Year's Eve-style countdown to the curtain pull ... and for the big moment - the unveiling of Kate Moss with her collection - the curtain doesn't pull.
A very annoyed Green chomped his gum as various Topshop men and women jumped to the store window to tug at the red velvet curtain ropes. Cussing ensued. An initially frazzled Ms. Moss eventually laughed the gaffe off.
After what may have been the longest three minutes known to a Topshop storefront designer, the curtains were fixed. The red velvet was raised to reveal Ms. Moss to the masses. And then Kate Moss did what she does best ... she worked the cameras.
Albeit only for about 30 seconds before she scampered off the stage. For her cell-phone-totting fans who see the model as a fashion icon who can do no wrong, a half-a-minute was long enough.
From Alphonso Van Marsh, CNN International Correspondent
Terror: The backstory that was the story
Ten seconds. That’s all it took to reduce June Taylor to tears as she walked into the underground station where her daughter was blown apart by a suicide bomber. I knew it would be a hard day for her and her husband, John, but the tears flowed so freely, it overwhelmed her and so did the anger.
Twenty-four-year-old Carrie Taylor died on July 7, 2005 as Shehzad Tanweer blew himself up just a few feet from where she stood on the train. The last thing she said to her Mom was "Don’t wait for tonight." But of course they did. Hour after hour they waited and waited for their daughter to call or come home. But it was only a police officer that knocked on their door that night.
By law, June and John Taylor weren't supposed to know that Shehzad Tanweer and an accomplice, Mohammed Siddique Khan were tagged and tailed by police a full 17 months before they detonated their bombs. A judge had forbidden us from reporting the evidence until there was a guilty verdict in the Crevice trial. But police and the media told the Taylors all about the evidence revealed in court at the fertilizer bomb trial. Tanweer and Khan were under surveillance and tracked at least four times. Police say they were dismissed as fraud artists and fundraisers for terrorists, not worthy of a costly round-the-clock surveillance operation.
In response to that, June Taylor looked me in the eyes and said: "They were all negligent, that’s the truth and I want them to stand up and admit it." June and John Taylor say the whole thing sickens them. The thought that their daughter could still be with them if police had taken Tanweer and Khan seriously.
Police and security services have responded by saying given the information they gathered on Tanweer and Khan, no one would have ever assumed they would one day become suicide bombers.
Police today wanted to concentrate instead on the impressive statistics about the terror plot they did manage to stop: The fertilizer bomb plot. They gathered 24,000 thousand hours of video and audio recordings during surveillance, 12,000 separate exhibits and it took as much as $100 million to see this case through.
The Taylors reminded me of their statistics too. It took 24 minutes for help to get to their daughter Carrie, 2 minutes for her to die after that help arrived, and 2 days to get their daughter's mangled body off the platform and finally refrigerated before it could be reclaimed by them for burial.
For the Taylors, it doesn't matter how significant the Crevice convictions are for police, for them it will always be about the ones that got away.
-- From International Security Correspondent Paula Newton.
ABOUT THIS BLOGHear from CNN reporters across the globe. "In the Field" is a unique blog that will let you share the thoughts and observations of CNN's award-winning international journalists from their far-flung bureaus or on assignment. Whether it's from conflict zone, a summit gathering, or the path least traveled, "In the Field" gives you a personal, front row seat to CNN's global newsgathering team.