What happens if you choose the best journalists around the world are locked in a luxury hotel? The scene may be more hilarious than Evelyn Waugh's novel 'bombshell! ". The book describes the behavior of journalists covering a civil war in a remote African country. That place could be Tripoli, where dozens of reporters are concentrated in the Hotel Rixos Al Nasr in the pending civil war reaches the Libyan capital.
The seasoned reporters are always prepared, some with multi-pocket jackets, others abandoned to the screens of their iPhones. But have not dusted off their bulletproof vests. The most, it took six weeks here and on their faces says fatigue. The least, arrived Wednesday in the latest "shuttle" of journalists is the Tunisian border to Tripoli Ajdir Ras.
They still retain the freshness of that just arrived. Soon, however, they realize the tight control that the Libyan regime submitted to informants. Armed men guard the entrance to Rixos, which has become a fortress almost like the Dino Buzzati described in "The Desert of the Tartars', a novel about a soldier waiting for an army that never comes, from the vantage point overlooking a vast plain.
It is impossible to leave this cage of gold-literally, if one takes into account the baroque gilded decoration of its rooms, unless accompanied by one of the officials of the regime. They scrutinize even the most intimate purchases, accompanying journalists to replenish their toothpaste and shower gel and even offered to buy a package of emergency packs.
Everything, as long as reporters do not move freely and have no contact with locals. The days following a near-perfect routine: waiting in the reception to be organized is an outlet or a press conference. The spell does not usually break until early afternoon, when everyone seems to awaken from its slumber.
Then, the bus runs swiftly to destinations inaccurate. You never know if the trip lasts an hour or twelve. The destination is repeated leading to progadafistas demonstrations in central Tripoli's Green Square or the United Nations headquarters. As the bus stops at the agreed site, dozens of people waving green flags displayed shouting a slogan that is always the same: "Allah wa Libya Muammar bas!" (Ie, that there is no God, Gaddafi and Libya).
Other times, the bus goes straight to the kitchen. In a planned trip to the city of Zawiya in early March, officials met with Gadhafi that the town was held by the rebels and his bus full of journalists had witnessed it. On another trip to Mizda, reporters were shot just outside the bus.
Iban supposed to meet a refugee family from Allied bombing, but were met with gunfire 'Kalashnikov'. Although not all gunfire and battle scenes. A few days ago, the heads of the press decided to organize an unusual visit to Sabratha. Those who dared to go back with great pictures of the impressive Roman theater.
Seasoned seasoned war reporters in a thousand battles became converted to ordinary tourists. Sometimes the desperation to get a story, an exclusive or simply capture what happens in reality takes over the group. "We have taken a bit of jail," says a camera to a city of Tripoli during a field trip to downtown.
It seems that comprise Tripoli despite journalists. Some, rather than 'Press' (press, in English), they call themselves 'Depress' (depressed). "Both control is not good. They should not treat them well. They should let free to go wherever they want," said a diplomatic source to hear the woes of a reporter.
But the Libyan government officials are afraid that the press has another reality. Although sometimes they can not. If in the presence of vigilant officers shopkeeper insists on talking about football and repeat that Libya is 'mia-mia' (ok 100%), some managed to whisper in an oversight that hopefully will come soon the 'spring' . 
The seasoned reporters are always prepared, some with multi-pocket jackets, others abandoned to the screens of their iPhones. But have not dusted off their bulletproof vests. The most, it took six weeks here and on their faces says fatigue. The least, arrived Wednesday in the latest "shuttle" of journalists is the Tunisian border to Tripoli Ajdir Ras.
They still retain the freshness of that just arrived. Soon, however, they realize the tight control that the Libyan regime submitted to informants. Armed men guard the entrance to Rixos, which has become a fortress almost like the Dino Buzzati described in "The Desert of the Tartars', a novel about a soldier waiting for an army that never comes, from the vantage point overlooking a vast plain.
It is impossible to leave this cage of gold-literally, if one takes into account the baroque gilded decoration of its rooms, unless accompanied by one of the officials of the regime. They scrutinize even the most intimate purchases, accompanying journalists to replenish their toothpaste and shower gel and even offered to buy a package of emergency packs.
Everything, as long as reporters do not move freely and have no contact with locals. The days following a near-perfect routine: waiting in the reception to be organized is an outlet or a press conference. The spell does not usually break until early afternoon, when everyone seems to awaken from its slumber.
Then, the bus runs swiftly to destinations inaccurate. You never know if the trip lasts an hour or twelve. The destination is repeated leading to progadafistas demonstrations in central Tripoli's Green Square or the United Nations headquarters. As the bus stops at the agreed site, dozens of people waving green flags displayed shouting a slogan that is always the same: "Allah wa Libya Muammar bas!" (Ie, that there is no God, Gaddafi and Libya).
Other times, the bus goes straight to the kitchen. In a planned trip to the city of Zawiya in early March, officials met with Gadhafi that the town was held by the rebels and his bus full of journalists had witnessed it. On another trip to Mizda, reporters were shot just outside the bus.
Iban supposed to meet a refugee family from Allied bombing, but were met with gunfire 'Kalashnikov'. Although not all gunfire and battle scenes. A few days ago, the heads of the press decided to organize an unusual visit to Sabratha. Those who dared to go back with great pictures of the impressive Roman theater.
Seasoned seasoned war reporters in a thousand battles became converted to ordinary tourists. Sometimes the desperation to get a story, an exclusive or simply capture what happens in reality takes over the group. "We have taken a bit of jail," says a camera to a city of Tripoli during a field trip to downtown.
It seems that comprise Tripoli despite journalists. Some, rather than 'Press' (press, in English), they call themselves 'Depress' (depressed). "Both control is not good. They should not treat them well. They should let free to go wherever they want," said a diplomatic source to hear the woes of a reporter.
But the Libyan government officials are afraid that the press has another reality. Although sometimes they can not. If in the presence of vigilant officers shopkeeper insists on talking about football and repeat that Libya is 'mia-mia' (ok 100%), some managed to whisper in an oversight that hopefully will come soon the 'spring' .
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