It was a noisy night last night - not the splash from the impromptu pool party - more the crash of weaponry of some sort throughout the dark hours.
But dawn today brought more darkness, more gunfire and reports of two missing American soldiers.
So we set out on our mission this morning with a little trepidation.
We (Phillip, Me and Mo) wanted to document the city - the contrasts between the heavily guarded oil ministry and banks against the three or four guys we met at the checkpoint more than half a mile inside the perimeter of the Tuwaitha nuclear facility - interesting priorities.
It's the first time we have actually strayed beyond our usual area of operations to any significant degree - we have wanted to since we got here - but have just been too busy.
First stop the Oil Ministry - a huge and imposing building now resplendent with sandbags and razor wire, GIs atop look out posts and alongside heavy artillery guns.
We started filming , but the shot we really wanted - down the barrel of that gun and through to the large military presence behind the high walls - was denied us.
"If you film us we will confiscate your tapes " we were warned. We backed off - we had enough footage from there anyway.
Next stop, round the corner to the Water Ministry - badly burnt-out but still standing. The elderly Iraqi, alone at the gate, told us there had been expensive furniture and fittings inside - not any more.
Next door the day started to get surreal (again!)
A pet project of Saddam's son, Oday - the Iraq Olympic Committee. Obviously Saddam's Iraq must have been pretty high on the IOC list of contenders to host the Friendly Games. It clearly was once a thing of beauty. The walls adorned with engraved Iraqi flags, Olympic rings and symbols of the various sports.
Shooting seems to be the only sport left in Baghdad. As we wandered through the burnt-out shell of a building it was strangely quiet, apart from the odd crowing bird and the not so distant crack of gunfire.
I don't know if the US army attacked the building as they rolled through the city. I do know it was comprehensively ransacked by vengeful Iraqis subsequently. It was rumoured there were torture chambers somewhere in its depths - good sport for dictators I guess.
Across the road, yet another incongruity.
One of the most striking buildings I have ever seen. There is some beautiful architecture here - or rather there was. The national monument to Saddam's martyrs is, however, one of the most extraordinary structures. Two halves of a monolithic turquoise teardrop stand hundred of metres high in splendid isolation at the centre of a once carefully tended park.
Inside the tear, the names of those that died - not by Saddam's brutal hand of course - but in the (sometimes reluctant no doubt) service of his name.
Families cannot mourn their dead at this place any longer. What were once the surrounding gardens are now dusty engine-revving-HumVee and tank parking lots.
Not the most sympathetic of places to occupy with heavy war machinery perhaps?
We were told we couldn't film there, otherwise our tapes would be confiscated, along with our cameras and we would be detained. Do you see a pattern here?
Anyway we had filmed from over the road, so we left without a fight.
Next stop the National Museum - apparently heavily guarded from the early days of the ceasefire - unlike the Tuwaitha nuclear facility. Do you see a pattern here, too?
Here we were told we could film but not talk to the soldiers. As we approached and began to film the impressive archway, with a shell hole right through the centre of it's forehead and a huge tank just squeezed between the columns, we were then told we could film the building, but not the tank. "it's a little difficult to miss the tank" I pointed out - Its in the middle of the building."
"Yeah I know" said the soldier I wasn't supposed to be talking to.
Then a sudden revelation hit me as we talked. The GI, blinking through rather thick glasses in the high noon sun and clutching his assault rifle in a sweaty hand, had his name clearly marked on his helmet - as do all the soldiers.
Christ, it said.
Christ, I thought!!!!
The moment was shattered when he said
"My first name is Eric."