It's easy to come up with reasons why Baghdad's relative peace might not last. There are still assassinations almost daily. Militias continue their saber-rattling exchanges. Only a tiny fraction of the displaced Iraqis have chanced a return to their homes. But in the instant snapshot of today, western reporters are moving around much more freely in the last six months.

I'm still not ready to risk a lunch in a restaurant, sitting long in public speaking English. But this weekend I decided to make a carefully considered trip to a grocery store I used to frequent regularly until early 2007. It just gets tedious and seems so colonial specifying for local staff the exact brand of Kellogg's cereals, granola bars and non-sugar fruit juices to fit my western tastes – upscale groceries stock these things inconsistently but commonly. A trip to a supermarket is a pretty good barometer of life in any city.

My looks are inconspicuous among Iraqis and I planned not to speak English in the store until I got to the check out, when I'd be almost out the door. But when I got to the milk and cheese fridge, I came across one of the most prominent Iraqi government spokesmen and his wife. "HELLO! HOW DO YOU DO?" he bellowed with characteristic joviality as other shoppers turned to look. I leaned into a handshake to whisper that I was trying to avoid English and he quickly understood. Whatever happens in the coming months, it's safe enough now for an American reporter and an Iraqi spin doctor to share a few words in the dairy aisle.

On a side note, I was pleased the cashiers remembered me and asked where I'd been.