By Michelle Kosinski, NBC News Correspondent

To fly over the majestic, jagged peaks of Afghanistan and Pakistan just at dawn, I felt that sense of expansive peace that seeing the world at a distance endows-- if only for a few moments.

It took just that long to snap the last threads of sleep and consider the trouble that lay imperceptibly below. The struggle of this country that, in its short modern history, has never seen a democratically elected head of state serve out his or her full term; has never seen a thriving economy; has survived shaky periods of military rule and sectarian murder.

Those same breathtaking mountains, are also believed to harbor Taliban and Al-Qaida militants -- and Osama bin Laden.

On the ground, in the capital Islamabad, the only sign that things were amiss was the silence of the streets.  Shops were closed, people indoors, and only a few cars appeared on the usually jammed highways.  It didn't know whether it was reassuring or ominous.  We passed the occasional corner-lot cricket match, and clusters of children in their long tunics chasing kites.

As we moved on Friday into Rawalpindi -- the city of Benzir Bhutto's assassination -- the ugly scars of violence immediately spread out before us, leading us to the source.  The remains of fires on the streets.  Some still burning.  A blackened building.  Looted shops with every window smashed.

Suddenly a crowd on the road ahead was throwing bricks and large rocks at vehicles and police; it was unnerving, people in cars unsure of which way to turn. An hour earlier, police had fired tear gas at demonstrators here.

Unfazed locals
Our Pakistani colleagues, though, felt comfortable in their city and took it in stride.  Fakhar simply walked out of our car toward them, and in a few minutes came back unfazed.  He had asked them to please stop throwing rocks and let us pass.  They politely nodded as we drove on by. 

Bhutto is remembered. Photos by Michelle Kosinski

Most of them were young men, and with nearly everything closed on this day of mourning, they seemed to wander around with not much to do.  They watched us with curiosity.  When one group in the center of Rawalpindi saw me approaching on foot with a small still camera, they started chanting anti-Musharraf slogans.  I had worried about that, that our obvious presence would give them a reason to spark up again.  We moved on quickly.

"I hope you enjoy your visit to Pakistan," one man commented sarcastically, exaggerating as if he were a tour guide.  He shook his head at the mess of it all.

On these streets stinking with the smoke of at least a dozen tire fires, this day was calmer than the last.  And this northern region was much calmer than the south, which was dominated by Bhutto supporters.

Still, the numbers just released by the Interior Ministry were surprising:  In two days of anger and grief across this country,  more than 750 shops had been burned, more than 170 banks looted, and 38 people had died. Fifty three others were hurt.

Loss and uncertainty
More than in the faces of the somewhat bored-looking young fire-starters in Rawalpindi, though, and the throngs of even more bored-looking police everywhere else, we felt the emotion of Pakistan's loss and uncertainty in the quietest place. 

Scenes in Rawalpindi in the assassination aftermath.

At the gates of Liaquat Park, where Pakistan's first prime minister had been assassinated, and where Benazir Bhutto waved her last to the crowds on Thursday, was a small group of older men, praying silently together.  And one by one, more people on the streets would join them, slowly and without cheering or jeering or setting anything aflame but some white candles. 

None of them noticed us. Their sorrow was more palpable in that moment than the lingering oily smoke that made us stifle our coughing.

That was the last image we saw in Rawalpindi before darkness completely overtook the dusty old town. 

Most of Pakistan is not raging in the streets, but waiting, and watching.  Worrying, and mourning.

Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf turned Pakistan from pariah state to partner after the 9/11 attacks. Take a look at the leader that won the United States trust against many odds.

VIDEO: Musharraf - an unlikely ally

MAINZ, Germany – It smelled of fresh-baked cookies when I dropped my children off at kindergarten on a recent morning. For a moment, I just stood there, inhaled the sweet scent and watched little kids in their aprons – faces dusted with flour – dance to German Christmas songs.

The weeks before Christmas – or the Advent season, as we often refer to it here – is a very special time in Germany. Solemn, quiet and full of old traditions.

Andy Eckardt / NBC News

An evening in the Christmas market in Wiesbaden, Germany.

While it seems that marzipan and chocolate Santas are put up earlier in stores every year, people begin to really feel the Christmas spirit about four weeks before the big holiday – when Christmas markets open and more visitors than usual flock into churches for the four Advent Sunday masses.

On the eve of Dec. 6, children put their polished shoes outside the door, hoping that Saint Nick (or Nikolaus) puts a treat into their boots, when he comes to see who was naughty or nice.

Americans often ask if St. Nick is the German Santa. Well, in a way he is. Because Santa Claus derived from this European figure, formerly the Bishop of Myra, who was born in the third century in Europe and dedicated his life to giving to the needy, sick and suffering.

But, on Christmas Eve in Germany, it is the Weihnachtsmann ("the Christmas man") – a "ho, ho, ho," Coca-Cola-style Santa Claus, who slips through the chimneys.

Not so long ago, it was difficult to find decorated houses in German towns. In the old days, my parents used to take us on evening rides through the housing areas of the American forces in my city, to give us a glimpse of the oceans of blinking lights, reindeers on roof tops and artificial, sprayed-on snow. Now Germans put on their own light shows at their houses.

VIDEO: Christmas creeps - a Bavarian tradition

Yet, the seasonal cheer is best felt in the country's Christmas markets, which date back to medieval times. Many are still to be found on their original sites in towns and villages across the country. Germany's most famous market – Nuremberg's "Christkindlmarkt" – is more 400 years old.

After-work-parties here are often relaxed gatherings with friends between the little wood huts that sell candy and beverages. Meeting for a glass, or two, of hot mulled wine, with trumpet players or children's choirs performing carols like "O Tannenbaum" or "Silent Night" in the market squares.  

Andy Eckardt / NBC News

An evening in the Christmas market in Wiesbaden, Germany.

Our Christmas markets have been copied by many of our European neighbors. Birmingham, England claims it has the largest market outside Germany, complete with nutcrackers, Lebkuchen, sausages and christmas tree ornaments. There is even a Palestinian Christmas market in Ramallah.

But, for Germans, decorations, lights and a nicely decorated tree are essential for the perfect Christmas feeling, according to a recent survey by Innofact.

The survey showed that Christmas without a tree and the traditional family dinner is unthinkable for the vast majority of Germans, who mark Christmas Eve as the most important day of the festive season here. 

"There is a definite trend toward more traditional values among young people when it comes to Christmas," according to researcher Detlef Wolters.

Some 80 percent of the under-40 crowd said they preferred to spend Christmas nestled with their families in an atmosphere of harmony and contemplation.

That's what Germans call "Frohe Weihnacht," a Merry Christmas.

PERICO, Cuba – This tiny town is in mourning this holiday season.

Forty residents of Perico, some 100 miles southeast of Havana, are believed dead, drowned at sea on a failed smuggling operation.

The group, which included somewhere between nine and 12 children, set off in the pre-dawn hours on Saturday, Nov. 24, and was expected to be dropped off in the Florida Keys by Sunday.

No one has heard from them since.

"People leave here all the time but they always make it to land, somewhere," said Maria Galban, waiting for some word about the fate of her brother Jorge, his wife and two children, aged 10 and 19.

Roberto León / NBC News

Maria Galban looks despondent while explaining that she doesn't know the fate of her brother, sister-in-law, and their two children since they set off in a boat for the U.S.

This was Jorge's fourth attempt to leave the island. Twice he ended up in the Bahamas, only to be extradited back to Cuba. On one of those occasions, he spent four months in a Bahamian immigration detention center. Another time, Cuban Border Guards stopped him in local waters.

"He always came back to us. We always heard something," Galban said, as she wept.

Her only consolation comes from living in a relatively small town of approximately 31,000 residents where neighbors treat everyone like family. People say the entire town shares in the collective grief of losing so many people at one time.

Maria Mirna Gutierrez is devastated over the disappearance of her son, Jorge Luis, a supervisor on a state farm. "He left for work that morning and never came home," she said. "Where is my son?  I cannot be consoled. I don't know if I can survive this."

She too is not alone in her grief. The night she spoke with NBC News, a large crowd of neighbors gathered silently outside her home, mistakenly thinking that someone in authority had come to give the grieving mother news on her son.

In the middle of the interview with Gutierrez, a younger woman, Aranelis Cabrera, barged in, clutching a photo of her missing relatives. Cabrera is searching for her brother Renier and wife Idania. She still has not worked up the courage to tell her ailing parents that the couple is missing. "This would kill them," she said. Her only hope is that her brother, who had a job as a night watchman, turns up alive before too long.

Cuban authorities think that's a long shot.

VIDEO: Dangerous passage from Cuba

Acting on Missing Person's Reports filed by the families here, the Cuban Border Guards sent out patrols to search local waters and deserted keys for either survivors or evidence of an accident.

Nothing has been found of either the black 32-foot Wellcraft speedboat with its twin engines or the human cargo. The families report they also have been assured that the missing passengers are not in police custody. No one is being held on charges that could include trying to leave the country by illegal means.

Roberto León / NBC News

Maria Mirna Gutierrez weeps while discussing the disappearance of her son.

At the same time, the U.S. Coast Guard conducted its own extensive air-and-sea search, also coming up empty-handed.

While both countries remain on alert for this craft, few hold out hope for finding anyone alive after almost a month. Too much time has passed.

The long time lapse itself may have been the biggest hindrance to the initial rescue efforts.

Even after the boat failed to arrive on schedule, anxious relatives on both sides of the Florida Straits waited almost two weeks before reporting the incident to either U.S. or Cuban authorities.

If indeed all the passengers perished in the journey, it will be noted as the single worst smuggling tragedy from Cuba.

While more Cubans over recent years have taken to the sea aboard smuggling speedboats, chiefly originating from south Florida, they are both illegal and dangerous operations.

According to the families in Perico, fear was one reason why people waited so long – fear from breaking the law in both countries, but also fear of reprisals from the smugglers.

"This is all very dangerous," said Judy Carvajal, whose only sister and 10-year-old niece were on board the boat.

The smugglers charge up to $12,000 a head, far beyond the reach of most Cubans living on the island. So, relatives already residing in the U.S. usually make the arrangements and pay the fee –even going into debt to do so. While they know smuggling is illegal, they are also desperate to be reunited with their families.

Both the U.S. Coast Guard and the Cuban Border Guards seem frustrated by the steady upswing in smuggling despite their separate efforts at stopping the illegal trade.

The Cuban authorities complain that the speedboats that come into isolated beachheads to pick up their passengers under cover of night are just too fast to apprehend. Using local guides and sophisticated GPS navigators, a smuggling boat can land on shore, board its passengers and leave in under three minutes.

Speed also thwarts U.S. Coast Guard efforts, which reports that over 60 percent of the Cubans known to have illegally set off to sea last fiscal year slipped past American radars and made it to U.S. shores. There, the Cubans become political refugees, classified under the so-called "wet foot/dry foot" policy – the special immigration status that allows any Cuban touching U.S. soil to stay and become eligible for residency.

The Cuban government points to this policy of privilege as the impetus for people to risk their lives in these dangerous and costly crossings while the Bush administration insists its Cuba's failed economy and repressive political system driving people to the perilous sea.

By Adrienne Mong, NBC News Producer

WUHAN, China – A few days ago we posted a blog musing about the "Mystery Mandarin Expert" who was interpreting at the joint U.S.-China trade talks in Beijing earlier this month.

With a little persistence and the assistance of the U.S. embassy, I was able to track down the interpreter – Jim Brown – and interview him over the phone about his Chinese language training.

The first thing I learned about Jim is that he isn't as shy as reputed. In fact, he's quite assertive, especially when it comes to discussing the U.S. diplomatic service and China.

Early in our interview, he set out to clarify the perception that it's rare for non-ethnic Chinese to interpret at high-level official events, dismissing the suggestion that he's unusual. "It's totally normal and common that Americans do know these languages, and that officials do bring their own staff," he said.

AFP - Getty Images The interpreter Jim Brown sits behind U.S. Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson as he speaks with Chinese President Hu Jintao during a meeting at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing on Dec. 13.

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And contrary to popular opinion, Jim said, many American diplomats are proficient in the language of the country in which they're working, "more so than other diplomats." Moreover, explaining why so many more Chinese seem to be proficient in English, as opposed to the number of Americans who speak Chinese, he added, "In the U.S., people can choose from 30 or 40 languages [to study], but in China everyone learns English."

For the 54-year old Jim, the decision to become an interpreter was made fairly early on in life.

A native of Washington, D.C., Jim led the peripatetic childhood of a diplomat's son. "I was very fortunate," he said. "I lived in Taiwan in the 1960s and [then also] studied history and international relations at Fu Jen University" in the island's Taipei County.

His first job after graduating was consulting for Pan-American Airlines in 1978-1979.  "I did 13 trips to China in that one year," he said.

A year later, he was working for the Department of Defense and not long after, in 1981, he joined the State Department. "My original intent was to become a generalist," recounted Jim, who said he'd always been interested in diplomacy. "I didn't want to specialize."

But China was opening up to the world, and the demand for his kind of skills was growing.  "There was a critical need for interpreting [Chinese]," said Jim. He served four years at the U.S. embassy in Beijing. Two more tours would follow, each lasting seven years – in the 1980s and then in the 1990s.  He's currently on his fourth assignment in China.

In his early encounters with ordinary Chinese people, Jim said there was a good deal of surprise at his language proficiency. He recalled one experience when he ordered a bowl of noodles somewhere on the roadside in the south in 1978.

"People kept coming over, saying, 'Oh, the foreigner speaks Chinese,'" he said.  The crowd grew so large that eventually it attracted a policeman who told Jim to move on, because he was blocking traffic.

These days, however, "People expect [you to speak Chinese] more and more," said Jim, who disputes the idea it's difficult for non-Chinese to learn the language. "There's nothing mysterious about China or Chinese," he said. 

Jim – who also speaks Cantonese, Japanese, Korean, and French – said mastering Mandarin is not any tougher than mastering any other language; although he did concede there were one or two challenges unique to Chinese.

"Those four-character sayings [known as] cheng yu," he said, referring to classical Chinese idioms or proverbs. "It's very hard to translate the historical allusions." 

But otherwise, his concerns as a Chinese-language interpreter are the same as in any language. "The most important thing is to be accurate – never insert anything, never edit," he said, even when the situation might be a bit tense, as it was in the U.S.-China trade talks in mid-December. 

"The job is not to tone things down or change it in any way," he said.

As many of the readers of our previous blog post surmised, Jim's capacity for languages is overmatched by his modesty.  Becoming a good interpreter, he said, "is a gradual process. I think a person is never satisfied. You always think you could be better."

According to Jim, excelling at the job means disappearing.

"Some people call me shy, and maybe I am, but that's part of the job, to keep a low profile. At times after meetings, people have come up to me to tell me what happened during the meeting and I say, 'I was there,'" he e-mailed me after our phone call. "When they forget I was there interpreting, then that is the highest compliment."

MOSCOW – The phone rang. It was a frantic call from a colleague who works at NTV, one of Russia's major television stations.

"Is there any way we can watch the 'Today' show here in Moscow?" she asked me. "We heard they will be announcing Time magazine's Person of the Year, and we want to be watching in case they choose President Putin."

I couldn't help her with the 'Today' show, but otherwise she wasn't disappointed. Time did chose President Vladimir Putin as their Person of the Year, citing as a major factor his efforts to bring Russia "roaring back to the table of world power."

VIDEO: Putin is named TIME person of the Year

Along with the two other largest television networks in Russia (all three are run by the Kremlin or Kremlin-friendly companies), NTV had a story which would earn Putin even more airtime than the ample amount he usually gets: an American magazine chooses Russia's president at its Person of the Year, at a time when tensions between the countries are on the rise over disputes about the political direction that Russia is taking.

'For better or worse'
The United States and much of Europe have criticized what they see as a democratic backslide in Russia, even calling parliamentary elections held earlier this month neither free nor fair. Putin, on the other hand, made a central theme of the election the need to protect Russia from the outside influence of other countries that wish to destabilize her – a not-so-veiled swipe at the West.

Time's choice of Putin was played out on the major networks here as a nod of support for Putin's style of leadership. All the networks dedicated between 5 and 10 minutes of their evening newscast to the story, showing long clips of Putin answering Time reporters' questions. This morning, the "Tvoi Den" tabloid headline declared that "Americans Chose Putin: Bush no longer rates with the Americans."

Time stresses that their choice for Person of the Year is not an endorsement of that person's views or policies, but simply the person who "for better or for worse has most influenced world events" (previous choices include Hitler, Stalin, Pope John Paul II and Bill Gates).

But that still didn't sit well with some of Russia's blog community, who tend to be younger and more critical of the government. They point to the comments of Richard Stengel, Time's managing editor, who said Putin was chosen for the "extraordinary feat of leadership in taking a country that was in chaos and bringing it stability."

One LiveJournal blog poster wrote: "I don't think that Russian government actually paid you for this. But it does look like this year you had a really hard time selecting worthy candidates."

For Putin himself, the choice is just another confirmation of what he already believes. After the chaos of the '90s, Russia is back on its feet and back on the map.

By Adrienne Mong, NBC News Producer

EPOCH CITY, Xianghe, China –

Let's be frank. Covering the prepared remarks of senior officials on the closing day of trade talks isn't exactly the most scintillating of assignments.

So as China's top trade negotiator Vice Premier Wu Yi and U.S. Secretary of Treasury Henry Paulson read their statements to a room full of Chinese and western journalists at the end of the China-U.S. Strategic Economic Dialogue, I amused myself by comparing the original comments to the translations that followed.  

The English translation of Wu's Chinese-language speech was more or less on the mark. But as I jotted notes down in my pad, listening to the Chinese translation of Paulson's remarks, the inflection of a phrase caught my ear and I glanced up to take a look at the interpreter.

Somewhat to my surprise, it was a westerner who was translating Paulson's speech into fluent Mandarin.

I racked my brain, trying to remember whether I'd ever seen a Caucasian interpret Mandarin at a high-level Chinese diplomatic function. 

Now I'm not suggesting fluent Mandarin-speaking westerners are rare. Far from it, I'm repeatedly shamed by all the non-Chinese around me whose Mandarin is so good they can mimic regional accents. But normally interpreters at high-level official events are ethnic Chinese.

Mandarin, after all, is a tough language to master. For one, it's tonal, not phonetic. (Mandarin – considered China's national language – has four tones. So each character has four ways to pronounce it and thus at least four different meanings. The popular southern dialect, Cantonese, has nine tones!)

It's character-based, using ideographs instead of an alphabet. (To be able to read a newspaper you need a command of at least 3,000-4,000 characters.) And the grammar, which appears deceptively simple at first, can actually be quite tricky.

My curiosity piqued, I wondered who the fellow was? Where did he learn his Mandarin? Did he think in Chinese? Was he a part of Paulson's staff?  (Wow, I thought, Paulson really does want to build trust with the Chinese and clarify perceptions and increase understanding.) What did the Chinese officials think of him and his language skills? Was he used to getting, well, the kind of reaction I was having to seeing him translate?

A few days later, after a round robin of e-mails to the U.S. Embassy in Beijing and several State Department bureaus in Washington, I was nowhere closer to answering any of those questions. But I did learn a few things. 

The interpreter's name is Jim Brown.

Apparently Jim is quite shy.

And apparently there aren't many like him.

AFP - Getty Images

The interpreter Jim Brown sits behind U.S. Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson, left, as he speaks with Chinese President Hu Jintao, right, during a meeting at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing on Dec. 13.

There are three levels of expertise for translators, Brenda Sprague, the Director of the Office of Language Services for the Department of State, patiently explained to me over the phone in the early hours of my morning. (The Office of Language Services and its staff, said Sprague, "support the President, the White House, the State Dept, and provide assistance to rest of federal government – just the very highest level of work.")

The first level of skill is "simple consecutive" translation. "Although it's not that simple," explained Sprague. Interpreters have to be able to translate on the spot after each remark or statement.

The second level of expertise is "simultaneous seminar-level," which, as its name suggests, is simultaneous translation in a less formal environment like lower level meetings or training courses. "And in theory, you can stop to catch up or take notes," said Sprague.

And the third level is "full-blown consecutive" translation, in which interpreters can work in both simple consecutive and simultaneous translation, but at very senior-level meetings or diplomatic functions. 

So presuming Jim Brown falls into the third category, I asked, are there many more like him?

"In Jim's category, there's only Jim," replied Sprague.

Is someone like Jim – a white guy speaking fluent Mandarin – rare in her experience?

"I can only think of two or three like Jim," said Sprague.  "Most people [who interpret or translate Chinese] are ethnically Chinese or heritage speakers, immigrants who moved to the United States and became bilingual."

Sprague noted that even heritage or naturally bilingual speakers have to train rigorously to become top-tier interpreters. "You rarely find an interpreter who's any good who's under 30," she added. (With graying hair and distinguished professorial mien, Jim looked over 30.)

"We have very tough tests and follow strict guidelines for interpreters," continued Sprague.  "There aren't very many of them. Probably 40 staff interpreters at conference-level in all the nine languages we train."

That's not a very high number, considering that the State Department has a stable of 1,500-1,800 translators and interpreters (both staff and contractors, for written and spoken languages).

Most of these are based in Washington, D.C., but a handful are stationed in Beijing, Moscow, and Tokyo – representing the volume of work and the importance of those countries to the United States, according to Sprague.

So there's hope. Maybe one day I will run into Jim Brown here and finally get some answers to my questions…in English.

NEW DELHI, India – Sankar Masthri is a monkey catcher. It says so on his business card.

"Monkey, Dog Hunter," it reads, together with little drawings of his targets and his cell phone number. The phone's ringing a lot these days, as India's capital tries to rid itself of an exploding primate population that's accused of all kinds of mayhem.

"Problem is, monkeys [are] getting smart," Masthri said, as we watched from a distance as one audacious monkey leaned inside a cage baited with bananas and made away with the food before Masthri could pull a wire to close the hatch and trap it.

VIDEO: Monkeys become deadly menace in Delhi

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Monkey hunters are paid 450 rupees (around $11) per monkey, a good rate by local standards. The monkeys are taken to reserves outside the city after they are caught. Masthri claimed to have caught scores in recent days, but the day we joined him was clearly slow going.

"Smart monkey," he repeated, shaking his head and again taking cover behind a bush, wire in hand.

There are an estimated 20,000 monkeys in Delhi, and the effort to get rid of them has taken on new urgency after the deputy mayor of Delhi plunged to his death in October while trying to fend off a group of primates on his balcony.  

"Marauding monkeys kill deputy mayor," screamed one newspaper headline. The media was soon filled with lurid tales of monkeys terrorizing the city.

Later, a group of monkeys went on a rampage in a low-income neighborhood, injuring more than 20 people, mostly children. Residents claimed the monkeys tried to snatch the children.

"We have lost our dear deputy mayor," Aarti Mehra, the mayor of Delhi, told me shortly after ordering extra teams of monkey hunters. "This menace must stop."

Anybody who feeds the monkeys will be fined, she says, though more drastic action against the primates – culling, for instance – isn't really an option since the monkey is revered by the Hindu religion. The monkey God, Hanuman, represents strength.

Ian Williams/ NBC News

A money catcher and his prey in New Delhi, India.

To add insult to injury, monkeys have taken a liking to the main government buildings in Delhi, where on most days large troops of them can be seen scaling fences and roofs, sitting provocatively on top of signs reading "Government of India."  Several recently broke into the Defense Department, fleeing with confidential documents, which were found scattered over the streets.

They were even declared a security threat recently, amid dark murmurings of a possible Pakistan connection.

Some government ministries and foreign embassies have brought in langurs, which are lanky, aggressive monkeys that scare away those causing problems. The langurs patrol middle-class and diplomatic districts.

Ian Williams / NBC News

Monkeys take to the street in New Delhi, India.

"We've had no problem since we deployed the langur wallah," one woman told me in the front yard of her large house, near the park where Masthri was working. "Before they would go to the roof and throw off the pots. They'd tear our clothes from the line. They'd sit on the gate and shake it. We couldn't go out. The kids couldn't play."

I can testify that the monkeys can be pretty scary. We filmed a stand- up, a clip of me talking to the camera in the park, as I strolled through a bunch of them on a path. As we finished, a pretty angry pair of monkeys confronted me, baring their teeth. I made a pretty rapid exit, with    Masthri urging me to avoid even looking at them. He told me that under no circumstance should you confront an angry monkey. Luckily that was the last thing on my mind.

Plenty of people believe monkeys are getting a bad rap and that the real problem is one of man, not monkey.

Delhi is a rapidly growing city. Urbanization is eating into the forest areas where the monkeys used to live. With so much of their habitat destroyed by man, they're heading to the city.

Animal rights activists claim the monkey catchers are making matters worse by splitting up families.

"They get aggressive when you split up a troop," according to Sonya Ghosh, an animal rights campaigner who is working with the government on the city's simian crackdown.

Ian Williams / NBC News

Sankar Masthri, the monkey catcher, and his wife.

In the park, Masthri eventually got his first catch of the day, with the door of his cage crashing down behind a monkey that pushed its luck too far. It started thrashing around, shaking the cage. 

Outside, perhaps 20 others looked on from the trees and the edge of the path. One of them sat on a water tap, nonchalantly turning it on for a drink, then off again.

"They're getting clever," Masthri repeated. "We'll have to try a new area."

Of course, there are no shortages of areas, and the $11 bounty for each monkey gives him plenty of incentive. But a morning with the monkey hunters does leave you wondering whether the monkeys are not adapting better to the city than the city is to them.

NBC News' Ned Colt leads a tour of some of the wacky holiday rituals celebrated worldwide. From a gathering of 13,000 Santas in Northern Ireland, to a pet reindeer in England, to an electric eel powered Christmas tree in Japan, take a look at a few of this year's pre-Christmas events around the world.

VIDEO: Crazy Christmas celebrations

By Adrienne Mong, NBC News Producer

CHONGQING MUNICIPALITY, Central China –

Many of our stories for NBC News focus on the "new" China. Since the country launched its open-door policy in 1978, there's been much to say and much to document on this subject – unprecedented social change amidst years of double-digit economic growth.

But it's the old China that fascinates me – a China that still holds fast to a certain way of life, no matter how many new Louis Vuitton boutiques or Wal-Mart superstores might sprout up across the country.

Roughly 60 percent of the nation lives in the countryside. I was reminded of that recently as we sped down Yuyi Expressway, through the Chongqing provincial municipality, where every nook and cranny is occupied. We were on an official trip sponsored by the Chinese government to visit the Yangtze River's Three Gorges Dam and some other areas along the way.

Driving this road, you see rice paddies of every size and shape and fields of leafy green vegetables stacked on top of one another like tiers of a wedding cake. Where there is no farmland, there are two- or three-story concrete homes with green tinted windows reflecting the countryside.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

The face of New China?

It's this sleepy, but hardy rural culture that we rarely get to observe from our perch in the big city of Beijing: gaggles of extremely plump, white-feathered ducks; farmers carrying buckets of dirt balanced on a pole around their shoulders; the odd water buffalo; and babies swaddled in padded cotton layers and wearing split pants (who says the Chinese aren't good to their environment; imagine all the babies here using disposable diapers!).

And then, of course, there's that ultimate symbol of old China: the government minder. No matter how much the country has opened up to foreigners, foreign influence, and foreign media, the central government still retains a healthy suspicion toward journalists.

During our visit to the Yangtze River's Three Gorges region, we were being shepherded by a group of government minders from the State Council Information Office (the central government's public affairs/information department) and provincial-level officials. The ones from Beijing were distinctly better dressed, spoke English, and seemed generally affable. The local officials were much quieter, officious, and liked to hover.

Whenever we did anything remotely journalistic – like film a scene, take notes, or interview someone – we suddenly  had three or four cameras trained on us. One or two would be a local Chinese news organization filing the obligatory "foreign media see China!" story.  The others we were not so sure about; the guys looked an awful lot like our minders, dressed in ill-fitting suits, carrying their cameras like props.

Adrienne Mong / Nbc News

An NBC News' Mark Mullen conducts an interview and attracts local interest.

When we tried to wander off the beaten trail, as we did in the old town of Dachang, minders materialized from all corners to shoo us back in the direction of the guide.

By the time we'd been driven to the third waste-management plant of the trip – all part of the government's effort to demonstrate the seriousness with which it takes environment concerns arising from the Three Gorges Dam project – even the local journalists were bored.

But then there was at least one unexpected moment of levity. During a whirlwind go-round of Xingshan, we trooped through the main town square and came upon a group of elderly ladies preparing to rehearse a drum dance. It was sunset, and the scene was picture-perfect. All the cameramen immediately sprung into action and the reporters began asking questions. 

We hung back a little. It seemed like another government orchestration – a parade of happy villagers.

Adrienne Mong / Nbc News

An older woman in Xingshan takes in all the excitement.

But then shouts echoed in the square.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" a handful of officials shouted at the journalists, trying to herd everyone toward the waiting minibuses.

Then the drumming was punctuated by a long wail.

"Aiya," one of our Beijing minders said. "We're behind schedule! This isn't even part of the program!"

Everyone ignored her. Our cameraman began filming. And the elderly women continued dancing and singing as the sun set over the square.

Read Adrienne's other blog from her trip: China's Three Gorges Dam - a magnet for controversy

 

He might not be the first person that comes to mind when you think of the blogosphere – but Iran's President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has his own blog. And surprisingly, it's a somewhat open forum.

VIDEO: An unlikely blogger

While the president writes fairly infrequently, his posts are less confrontational than his usual speeches and the comments are both scathing and supportive.

NBC News' Ali Arouzi reports from Tehran.

Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Bonham, and John Paul Jones. Four names that effortlessly roll off the tongue… Led Zeppelin broke up the year before I was even born, but as in the case of the Beatles, the Who, the Doors, (I could go on) the music keeps going. On Monday night those four names were reunited again for a benefit concert here in London – Jason Bonham filling in on the drums for his late father. 

"Have you ever seen so many happy people in one place?" someone asked me as the show started at the O2 Arena in Greenwich. I look around at the sea of smiling fans – from middle-aged rockers to kids and grandparents, in everything from tie-dyed t-shirts to suits and ties. Everyone was standing and dancing – and that person's comment stuck with me the whole night.

A reunion, one-off gig, limited tickets, what was there not to be happy about? People shelled out $250 for a regular ticket, not to mention the ones going for thousands online. (I was lucky enough to be there thanks to a press pass). Spending that kind of money to see a band? Let's hope you're happy!

All eyes glued  to the stage
As the crowd buzzed with anxious wonder and whispers of "What song will they play first?" – "Good Times, Bad Times" opened the show and not a dull moment ensued.

For two hours my eyes were glued to the stage.  I never thought I would see Jimmy Page play his guitar with a violin bow live. Hearing Robert Plant announce "Dazed and Confused," the crowd erupted. Soon after, all eyes were on Page as he stood on stage surrounded by green lasers bowing his guitar. Then, Page produced his double neck Gibson signaling "Stairway to Heaven." The opening of "Kashmir" sent the crowd wild yet again. Mobile phones were lifted in the air by people sharing the tunes with friends and reminding others who got tickets to the big gig. As the show closed with "Rock and Roll," I didn't see one still body in the whole arena. 

A chance of a lifetime? Certainly for me. The performance was billed as a one-off charity event held in memory of former Atlantic Records boss Ahmet Ertegun, who signed Led Zeppelin. But even before the start of the show people were questioning if this would be the start of something more for the band. 

After seeing last night's performance, I certainly hope that there is more to follow so that others can see the magic I witnessed. If it was such a spectacle to me, I can only imagine the feelings it evoked in the onlookers that had the opportunity to see them in their heyday. 

NEW DELHI, India – As politicians gather at a U.N. conference in Bali this week, to haggle over how best to tackle climate change, they should spare a thought for the humble bicycle rickshaw drivers of New Delhi.

The rickshaw wallahs, as they're known locally, have invoked the battle against global warming in their fight to be allowed to stay on the crowded streets of the Indian capital.

I first learned about the plight of the wallahs on a recent visit to the city when the wheezing old taxi I was riding in nearly ran a rickshaw off the road. This isn't altogether unusual in India, where traffic runs on the principle of survival of the fittest – or at least the biggest.

Ian Williams / NBC News

A rickshaw travels across the busy streets of New Delhi, India.

All the same, my driver's reaction seemed unusually hostile. The rickshaw shouldn't be on the road, clogging it up, he snarled, and anyway it was now illegal for them to come to this part of town.

That surprised me too, since I've yet to find any Delhi driver who regards traffic rules as anything more than advisory.

I decided to investigate further, since I rather like the old rickshaws. They may not be much to look at, and sitting behind a sweating, straining cyclist, his rickshaw squeaking and wobbling amid the Delhi gridlock, might be regarded by some as rather cruel. But to me Indian cities just wouldn't be the same without them.

In Delhi alone there are more than 80,000 licensed rickshaws, though the number is estimated to be more than five times that. In some parts of the bustling old city, they can be the only way of accessing narrow lanes.

I soon discovered that, yes, the Delhi authorities have indeed banned them from Delhi's main corridors as well as parts of the old city. 

But the wallahs are fighting back, and feisty local environmentalists have taken up their cause.

The NGO, Initiative for Transportation and Development Programs, has challenged the ban in the Delhi High Court demanding the authorities provide a dedicated track for the cycle rickshaws on all main roads. 

They told the court the ban on rickshaws would worsen air pollution if cars replaced them.

The police told the court that getting rid of the rickshaws would help make Delhi a "modern" city.

"Delhi traffic police are of the opinion that cycle-rickshaws are extremely traffic hazardous and accident-prone," they said in a statement to the court. They said traffic was a nightmare because of the "infiltration," of cycle-rickshaws.

Serious stuff.

Cycle rickshaws may not conform to the Delhi police's view of what makes a modern city, but many capitals of more developed countries are beginning to see them as part of the solution to environmental problems. They can now be seen in London, Oxford, Paris, Singapore – even New York City, where they are called pedicabs. And London's considering a system of licensing for cycle rickshaws.

And as for the pollution, Delhi's Center for Science and Environment is warning that the city faces a winter of smog, with heightened risk of respiratory diseases, because the staggering increase in the number of motor vehicles, particularly diesel-fueled cars.

It's not the first time an Indian city has tried to get rid of rickshaws. Calcutta tried recently to ban the hand-pulled variety, the city's communist authorities arguing these leftovers from the days of the British Raj are inhumane. But the rickshaw pullers don't see it that way and so far they're refusing to give way.

In Delhi, the High Court is still chewing over the environmentalists' petition.

While I do hope something of substance comes out of Bali this week, I have my doubts. It may well be that local battles like the one being fought by Delhi's rickshaw wallahs make more difference than two weeks of talking in the sun in the luxury of an Indonesian tropical island.

By Adrienne Mong, NBC News Producer

THREE GORGES DAM, Hubei Province, China – It was correspondent Mark Mullen who first noticed them.

"What's that?" he asked as he pointed down at two red, waxy-looking discs on the ground. A piece of paper with Chinese writing was pinned on one of them. "They're all over the place," he said.

"Dunno," I replied, befuddled by the writing. But once we became aware of them, we noticed they were everywhere.

And because of where we were standing, atop the Three Gorges Dam, their existence seemed especially baffling.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

The Three Gorges Dam, the world's largest hydropower project.

The world's biggest dam
The world's largest hydropower project, the Three Gorges Dam in central China's Hubei province is as much an engineering feat as it is a magnet for controversy.

Measuring just as long and tall as San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge (7,575 feet long and 607 feet high), the dam is a stark example of man versus nature. It was designed to harness the world's third longest waterway, the Yangtze River (known in Chinese as Chang Jiang or the Long River).

Its delivery was a long time coming. First conceived in 1919 by China's revolutionary father, Sun Yat-sen, the hydropower scheme retained a special place in the hearts and minds of leaders who followed – particularly Mao Zedong – determined to bring a would-be superpower up to modern standards.

But it wasn't until 1992 that the Three Gorges Dam project was approved. Two years later, construction began, lasting more than a dozen years and running a total cost of $24 billion.

For the central government, completion of the dam project (slated for 2009) embodies "the comprehensive national strength of the People's Republic of China, as well as the superiority of the socialist system," according to the Three Gorges Project Committee of the State Council, an executive body in the government.

The dam project certainly demonstrates the power of the state.

Roughly a third of the nation's 1.3 billion people live in and around the Yangtze River basin. For centuries, these people led a risky lifestyle dictated by the Yangtze's tempestuous nature, namely, yearly floods.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

The level of the Yangtze River and its tributaries since its flooding in 2003.

So while to some, the Three Gorges Dam seems a gross and expensive example of national hubris, China's leadership has argued its existence is necessary for improving living standards, not least by controlling flooding and saving lives. 

The dam scheme also promises to bolster regional economic development through enhanced shipping routes (ocean freighters can now flow the estimated 1,550 miles from Chongqing all the way to Shanghai).

Upon completion, the project is expected to generate every year 84 billion kilowatt-hours of electricity from 26 power turbines* – the equivalent, some reports say, to what can be produced by 15 to 18 nuclear plants.

This source of this energy, however, has come at a price.

Between 1.2 and 1.4 million people were displaced after two cities, about a dozen counties and more than a hundred towns were submerged by the creation of the dam reservoir.

In October, China's government announced that another four million people would have to be relocated from areas near the reservoir created by the dam, although officials claimed the resettlement has nothing to do with the dam.  

The environment and the river ecology have been severely disrupted. Fish and mammal species face extinction because of increased shipping traffic and water pollution coming from Chongqing's industrial belt. 

And experts say the dam causes erosion, traps silt, and increases the risk of landslides. Last month, at least 35 people were killed in a landslide near the dam reservoir.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

The Three Gorges area is prone to landslides.

Chinese officials have responded quickly to the renewed criticisms as a result of the recent incidents by offering to take local and foreign media out to the Three Gorges.

NBC News was invited by the Chinese officials to join the trip to the dam, and having never attended one of these official press junkets, we were intrigued enough to take a closer look at Beijing's well-oiled propaganda machinery.

So it was atop the dam that Mark and I found ourselves scratching our heads over the red discs.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

Rat poison at the Three Gorges Dam.

I approached the engineer from the Three Gorges Project Development Corporation who was accompanying us.

"Huang Aiguo, what are those red round things over here?"

He walked over with me to stare at the ground. "I don't know." He picked one up and called out to a nearby cleaning lady sweeping the path. "Hey! What is this?"

"It's rat poison!" she yelled back.

Huang Aiguo immediately dropped the disc.

"Rat poison," he said, wiping his hands. Despite all of the sophisticated engineering features of the dam, the builders have resorted to a low-tech solution to keep rats from chewing into wires and cables.

"Yes, we have to be careful of rats," said Huang.

* GE Hydro is one of the companies supplying turbines to the Three Gorges Dam project. GE Hydro is owned by NBC Universal's parent company, General Electric.

The National Intelligence Estimate on Iran's nuclear program came as a surprise and shock to most people here, for the most part Iranians felt that a U.S. military strike was a certainty, until Monday's findings.

The latest NIE report sharply contradicts it's 2005 assessment that Iran was working inexorably towards developing a nuceaur weapon -- prompting a case of "we told you so" on Iranian state TV, which branded Bush a liar and war monger.

Dr.Mohammed Marandi, professor at the University of Tehran, discusses the turn about and what it means for U.S-Iranian relations.

VIDEO: Iranians react to NIE report

I recently wrote about a new video game that gives ordinary Israelis and Palestinians the chance to play the role of peace-maker from the luxury of their own personal computers. 

But just as the game, and reality at the Annapolis Mideast peace summit show, bringing peace to the Middle East is no easy task.

An incredible piece of video, recently released by the Israeli Army, shows how in the volatile ground shared by Israelis and Palestinians – high tech often meets low tech in basic battles for survival.

VIDEO: Israeli drone video of Gaza gun battle

High tech becomes low tech 
What you're looking at are thermal images taken from an Israeli unmanned drone flying high above on the night of July 21. Two figures catch the eye of the drone operator sitting in a comfortable office far away. The figures are identified as Palestinian gunmen approaching the fence separating the Gaza Strip from Israel. The two gunmen move slowly among the bushes.

An Israeli unit is dispatched on a mission of interception, and you can see clearly that both sides are moving very slowly heading toward a collision.

The Palestinian gunman realizes that the Israeli forces are a few feet away and opens fire. A gun battle erupts. The black dots flying everywhere are the hot rifle shells. At this point one Palestinian gunman lies dead.

The explosion you see on the top right side is a grenade that was thrown by the second Palestinian gunman. The grenade explodes and doesn't injure any Israeli soldier.

One of the Israeli officers is roughly five feet from the surviving gunman and he decides to charge; but he makes a crucial mistake and doesn't remember to change his empty cartridge.

This is where low tech meets high tech.

With all the armored gear both sides have – night vision goggles, automatic rifles, grenades, and a sophisticated remote controlled drone in the air – what the Israeli officer is left with is wrestling the Palestinian to the ground with his bare hands.

You can see the officer standing up and running towards the Palestinian, but with no shells flying, he reaches the Palestinian and they are left tied up in a bundle, each fighting for his life.

The Palestinian pulls out another grenade and the Israeli manages to turn the Palestinian in the direction of the explosion, which kills the Palestinian, and leaves the Israeli officer only slightly wounded.

This piece of video is just a small and short testimony to the reality both sides face in this conflict, which occurs daily on the Israeli and Palestinian Gaza border.

 In a region where other Muslim governments ignore the AIDS epidemic, quarantine HIV-infected people or preach abstinence as the only solution, Iran's approach is fairly progressive. Iran's AIDS program melds up-to-date programs and research with deep-rooted religious values.

The country still doles out floggings to Iranians caught with alcohol, but it also gives clean syringes and methadone treatment to heroin addicts. Health workers pass out condoms to prostitutes. Government clinics in every region offer free HIV testing, counseling and treatment.

In 2005 the postal service unveiled a stamp emblazoned with a red ribbon for AIDS awareness. In 2006 there was an AIDS awareness concert in Tehran. This year, school children in Mashad created a 150 foot long painting to promote AIDS prevention and awareness. And in 2008, the government is due to earmark an estimated $30 million to AIDS programs.

Reuters

A man stands next to a piece of artwork at a conceptual art exhibition about HIV/AIDS in Tehran on World AIDS Day, Dec. 2. Â

"Iran now has one of the best prison programs for HIV in not just the region, but in the world," said Dr. Hamid Setayesh, the coordinator for the U.N. AIDS office in Tehran. "They're passing out condoms and syringes in prisons. This is unbelievable. In the whole world, there aren't more than six or seven countries doing that."

Iran's HIV infections rates may be low for a country of about 69 million people, but AIDS experts note that the country is confronting some major obstacles in controlling the disease's spread from growing intravenous drug use and prostitution.

According to World Health Organization estimates, the number of people living with HIV in Iran is approximately 22,000 to 30,000. The government reports 12,000 people with HIV, although health workers say the real figure is closer to 70,000. Across the Middle East and North Africa, the number of HIV cases has risen to 460,000, with 68,000 new cases in 2006 alone.

Many HIV-positive Iranians face shame and isolation. They're reluctant to tell relatives and co-workers about their diagnosis, fearful they'll be cast out of their homes, fired from their jobs, or ostracized by society. Those infected may remain hidden and not go to medical centers for treatment, raising another challenge to stopping the spread of HIV.

"My husband gave me HIV. He is a drug addict and he uses needles. He got the disease and did not know himself," said a 28 year-old cleaning lady who asked not to identified. "One day I was at work and the lady of the house noticed I was not looking well for some time. She sent me to her husband's clinic. [The doctors] did some tests and then told me I have HIV. Without [my employers] I don't know what we would have done, because we can't tell anyone in the family. They would never look at us again," the young woman said.

VIDEO: Doctor takes on HIV/AIDS in Iran

Because Iran is located on a major narcotics transit route (neighboring Afghanistan is the biggest narcotics producer in the world), the country's addiction rate has been growing, particularly intravenous drug use. Iran has the highest levels of opiate-based drug addiction in the world, according to the U.N. World Drug Report for 2005. The drug addiction problem used to be confined to people smoking opium but now the use of heroin is widespread.

In addition, to the north of Iran there are the newly independent countries such as Kazakhstan and Moldova formed after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, which are suffering from one of the fastest-growing HIV/AIDS epidemics in the world. The rapid spread of HIV in neighboring countries from narcotics smuggling has caused the increase of AIDS infection among Iran's injecting drug users.

The increase of prostitution is also causing concern among Iran's medical community.

"The trend of transmission has changed from intravenous drug users to high-risk sexual behavior," said Dr. Minoo Mohraz, Iran's leading AIDS specialist. "People cannot afford to get married so young, and are getting married older. The gap is being filled by more prostitution...In our culture we have a problem with high-risk behavior and extra-marital sexual activity," she said.

Only three years ago Mohraz was the first person to have mentioned the word "condom" on national television — and that only came after she overcame stiff opposition from some officials.

"I told them that if they won't let me talk about condoms and sexual behavior, I won't go on TV. So, finally they relented."

More on World AIDS Day:
Bush asks for $30 billion more to fight AIDS 
Audio slideshow: Stopping HIV at birth
Opinion: Battle against AIDS must go on

By Kerry Sanders, NBC News Correspondent

CARACAS, Venezuela -- I've reported for more than 25 years. I've sat through my share of news conferences. Some boring. Some self-serving. Some just plain weird.
 

I've attended press conferences in the United States, and through out the world, but the news conference with President Hugo Chavez on Saturday was hands down, the most unusual ever.

The leader of this oil-rich South American nation entered the room and walked past his desk, and the microphones, and walked around like a professor in the classroom.

He launched into a story of the history of native South Americans.  He dropped a few words in English, but mostly chatted in Spanish. He smiled, laughed, and engaged the assembled media.  He had no notes, and at the time, it seemed he was going on and on with no real point.

At one point he looked at one of the international journalists here and asked, where you are you from?
 

The reporter answered, through a translator, that he was from Japan.

President Chavez said he thought the reporter looked like a Quechua Indian from the Andes. Then, he went on to explain how it's believed the continents on earth were once connected, and how the Asian influence is evidenced in the native people of South America.

Chavez, who calls himself an Indian, says the Europeans like to say they "discovered" this continent, but it was discovered long before the Spanish and Portuguese claim to have found it.

To say I was perplexed is to put it mildly.

Entertaining, educational, and as engaging as Chavez can be, this was unlike any news conference I've ever covered. I was wondering when we'd get to the NEWS. At one point, well into the second hour, an aide walked around and offered coffee to the assembled reporters.

This news conference was so unusual, I actually enjoyed it. But as time went on, and on and on, I was fearful it would continue well past my deadline.

We, the assembled journalists, in the end asked only four questions.

I know politicians like to talk, but three hours and 15 minutes to answer four questions. That has to be a record. It's a record in my career anyway.

I was one of the correspondents who had his name pulled from the hat to ask a question.  (Yes, a very democratic process to determine who asks questions here.) | Video

Reporters who regularly cover these news conferences have one piece of advice before Chavez begins. Make sure you stop off in the bathroom, as it may be a long time before you can leave.

I wish I'd known that before President Chavez walked into the room.