Copenhagen, Denmark - It's one of the first messages that I see at Copenhagen airport. "Let's turn Copenhagen into Hopenhagen." Posters displaying this slogan adorn the city everywhere I go.

A 'Hopenhagen' poster on display in the Danish capital.

Over the last few days, covering the events at COP 15, one wonders if perhaps the Danish government itself has been a little too hopeful thinking that a legally binding international document to replace the Kyoto Treaty can ever be achieved.

But while headline-grabbing issues - "Climategate"and the "Danish text" - have cast a shadow over the summit's Bella Center venue, there is still plenty of hope abounding that some sort of framework document or political agreement will be reached by December 18th.

This is down to mainly the overwhelming amount of young people present here. So far, I've seen people dressed as mermaids, robots and a strange version of the Blues Brothers in red suits.

It's their enthusiasm that's infectious and I think also serves as a reminder as to why the international community has a great responsibility to come to some type of accord. It's not for our generation so much but for those who come after us.

As one young activist told me, she doesn't mind looking silly if a strange costume is what it takes so that people hear her message. Looking at the hundreds of forgettable attendees in the halls, she might have a point.

Hopeful too are the non-governmental organizations. They cite U.S. President Barack Obama's visit as the catalyst for their optimism.

Everybody knows that the two key countries that could influence the outcome of this summit are China and the United States. The latter even more so as where it goes, others tend to follow.

In the impressive American Summit Center, while hundreds gather around a big screen watching the U.S. president receive his Nobel Peace Prize, one of his secretaries tells us that if Obama can't drive the COP 15 agenda forward, who can?

It's a message that seems to be shared by many people here who admit that their hopes were much lower even two weeks ago when it looked like COP 15 was not going to be much more than a massive anti-climax. President Barack Obama? Yes! He can!

It's the vibrancy of the Bella Center which is really captivating however. In terms of events that I've helped cover, this is by far the largest in terms of the amount of journalists and participants who are here. Apparently 3,500 journalists are accredited as opposed to the 2,000 which were originally expected.

Here in the halls, people in traditional Peruvian costumes jostle for space with the suited observers from energy companies and over-excited young students. There seems to be a representative from literally every part of the world and everyday there seems to be more and more people...all with a message to bring.

It will be interesting to see if COP 15 really will be remembered by the world as the summit that changed the course of climate change, whether optimism can overcome the deep chasms between the developing world and the so-called developed world, whether negotiators can succeed in managing the delicate balance between economy, industry and our earth's fragile existence.

But for the next week or so the city of Copenhagen continues to be Hopenhagen.

(CNN) –  My trip back to my native Bulgaria this summer took on a special meaning because of an event that changed the course of history and my life! Twenty years since the fall of communism in Eastern Europe, I was taking special notice of how things had changed. I noticed a new generation gap, separating those like me, who grew up with communism, from those who have no memory of it.

I came face to face with that reality on the plane back home to the United States. 

I was chatting with a 20-something Bulgarian college student on her way to a student work program in the U.S, when I had a flashback to 1991, and my own trip to America when I was that age.  I almost didn't make it. Not because I was late for my flight. But because, to use a famous Cold War scholar's phrase, "history" had not quite "ended" in 1991.

Just a month before my flight, communists opposed to Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev's reforms, deposed him. All of sudden, it seemed, my dream CNN job could have been shut down behind the "Iron Curtain."

Fears grew in Bulgaria, that a return of communism in Russia would bring the Cold War back to tiny Bulgaria. A week later, it was over. The communist revival attempt failed, I was free to board my trans-Atlantic flight!

I glanced over at the young woman sitting beside me. Such a relief that history is no longer in our way. But even though we're both enjoying the benefits of change, there's one big difference. I experienced that history first hand; she's only heard about it from her mom. And that's a generation gap I gladly embrace.

I can still taste the concrete powder that filled the air when the Wall came down. It had a chalky sense of history about it. A taste one never forgets.

Evelyn Preuss in the rubble-filled streets of post-war Berlin.

My parents emigrated to the U.S. in 1960, seeking a better way of life. They were both children of war. My father, Gunter Preuss, grew up as a German in occupied Poland. He has lots of stories about death and suffering. Things a child should never witness.

My mother, Evelyn, is a Berliner. She fled into the cellar during Allied bombing runs. They never knew whether their house would be there when the all clear siren rang. Another example of things a child should never witness.

After the war, she said “Berliners just picked themselves up and rebuilt.” My family settled in New Orleans, Louisiana.

We grew up in middle class suburbia - a long way from the bombed out streets of Berlin. It was important to my parents that we spoke German in the house and visit relatives overseas. So in the summer, my brother and I would head to Germany - the divided one.

One grandmother lived in Kassel, West Germany. It seemed just like home but hilly with castles. I remember U.S. troop training and seeing tanks rolling down the streets. It made me feel proud, even though the Germans called us “Ami’s.”

The trip to see my other relatives in West Berlin was quite an adventure for us kids. We would drive through an East German border town. There were machine guns and guard dogs. There was an overriding feeling of paranoia and fear.

The soldiers never smiled and seemed angry. This was not something we ever expected. This became my legacy of the Cold War. Something the friends back home could not relate to.

Back in the safety of West Berlin, we once again felt cozy. I never did spend a lot of time at the Wall during those visits, but always felt its presence.

I remember once discussing the Wall with my parents. Mom said: “It is part of our lifestyle, we are divided there will never be one Berlin.”

Flash forward to November 1989. CNN was broadcasting the impossible. The Wall was coming down.

My mother and I knew we had to be there. We made travel arrangements. My memories of that heady time are filled with joyful trepidation.

Was it really true? Am I climbing on top of the Wall with hammer, chisel and spray paint cans? My mother’s first thought - “I wish my mother could have seen this, she would never have believed it.”

Evelyn and son, CNN's Andreas Preuss, at the falling Wall.

Mom was been back several times but staying still in the West area. I went back during the German Presidential Election a few years ago. There were construction cranes all over.

That feeling of paranoia was gone. The heady taste of capitalism was alive and well. A lot of money, hope and promise was filling the former Wall Zone.

My second hometown was changing. Places that I remembered as being the most prominent streets like the Ku-Damm seemed worn down and forgotten.

The buzz was in the East. I did find a spot where mom and I touched the Wall. It was now part of an outdoor museum and a reminder for all to see.

GREENOCK, Scotland – Embarking on our trip to Scotland early Monday morning to cover the potential release of the only man ever to be convicted for the 1988 Lockerbie bombing, we thought we would return to London barely 24 hours later.

Three days later, we remain here, in Greenock, a small town on the west coast of Scotland, a town which for the last four years, Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed al Megrahi has had to call "home."

In that time, we've visited Lockerbie. We're seen the garden memorial which has replaced the huge crater left by the flaming fuselage when it fell from the sky, it in turn, replacing the homes that had stood there and the families who had lived in them.

We've heard from eyewitnesses and emergency workers who cannot forget what they saw, even over 20 years later. We've heard conspiracy theories from local politicians who have blamed Iran, the Palestinians and the U.S.

We've even heard from relatives of the dead who really believe that the Scottish justice system has got it wrong and that Megrahi is an innocent man.

As we file more reports and speak to more involved parties, this case seems to get murkier and ever more confusing and my thoughts begin to lie with the one man who now has to decide the fate of the Libyan.

Kenny MacAskill, Scotland's Justice Secretary, has been given the sole responsibility of determining the fate of the terminally ill Meghari.

The Scottish Parliament has said that it doesn't need to be involved. Scotland's First Minister Alex Salmond has said that he trusts whichever decision MacAskill will take.

Supportive words, but hardly conducive for a man who needs to weigh up years of evidence, appeals, medical advice and family statements.

Since we came to Scotland, political heavyweights such as U.S. Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, Senators Edward Kennedy and John Kerry have weighed into the debate, urging MacAskill not to allow Meghari to go free.

The Justice Secretary hasn't even been able to count on the support of his own colleagues with the Scottish Secretary, Jim Murphy, yesterday slamming the ongoing situation as "embarrassing."

And so as we wait, busying ourselves collecting our elements and watching the news wires for updates, I feel rather sorry for the beleaguered Scottish politician who must be now sitting in his office, pouring over reams of material and trying to work out the right thing to do.

COLLEVILLE-SUR-MER, France (CNN) – It might come as a surprise to many Americans to know that they “own” a part of France… but the 172 acres of the American cemetery at Coleville-sur-Mer, one of 11 American military cemeteries in France, were ceded to the U.S. as a final resting place for those who gave their lives for the liberation of France and Europe. A high price to pay for any amount of land… and its value today is incalculable, not only as a place of remembrance for the families and comrades of those who lie here… but also for its lasting symbolism from one generation to the next. It’s a place to teach the horrors of war, the meaning of sacrifice and duty, a place, as we saw on the 65th anniversary of D-Day, that can also be a venue for international politics and diplomacy to stress united and concerted action.

Cannons fire a 21-gun salute at Colleville-sur-Mer during D-Day commemorations.

You sometimes hear people criticize the way this cemetery is laid out… very geometric, too impersonal. And it is true that the British military cemeteries from World War II, for example, are smaller and more dispersed and the grave stones often provide a brief line or two to suggest something of the often too brief lives of the dead that lie beneath them.

But there is something especially heartrending and overwhelming about the staggering scene of so many stark white crosses on the impeccably maintained and peaceful hillside above the beach where on the longest day back in 1944 - but only a brief historical moment - so much violence took place.

And while many people are drawn to the cemetery for a particular anniversary or holiday, the most stunning time to visit is any ordinary day when there are fewer - or no - other people around. You are alone with your thoughts and the graves of the fallen and you can’t help but wonder at what their lives were like and the meaning of their deaths.  When you take a measure of your own life against those who are buried here you can’t help but be humbled. Nothing equals their sacrifice.  None of your own petty aggravations and troubles holds a candle to what happened to them.

For one reason or another, usually connected with a news assignment, I have visited here many times over the past 30 years. I arrive worrying about deadlines or camera angles or finding the way to our next interview. But I never come away without having been moved by the experience of walking among the gravestones. It is one that sets aside your daily concerns... and puts life into perspective.

WEIMAR, Germany - We have been standing at the live position at the Buchenwald concentration camp all day commenting on the U.S. president’s visit there all day.

After the visit Barack Obama spoke words that soothed a lot of German souls, saying that he respected the Germans for looking their past in the eye, learning from it and trying to become champions of human rights as a result.

Being German I can say, there's a lot more truth in those words than many of us would admit in our everyday lives.

Sixty-four years after the end of World War II we like to think we are moving away from a feeling of "collective guilt" to one of "collective responsibility" to never allow anything similar to happen again, but that is only partially true.

Of course we still ask ourselves: "What would I have done back then?"

"Would I have supported the Nazis, even try to join them and make a career?"

"Would I have been with the resistance, given up everything and risk getting killed for a cause that didn’t seem to have many supporters in those days."

You can't give an honest answer to those questions. We would all like to believe we would have been brave and done the right thing, but we really cannot say for certain.

But the feelings show in German public opinion on a lot of matters.

Many Germans believe the country should not have an army, should not participate in military action outside German borders and that Germany should be a lot tougher on countries that abuse human rights.

I think in many ways we are still afraid of ourselves.

But today the U.S. president has told the Germans: “We respect how far you have come with the past you have.”

And even though this was a stage managed event like all presidential trips, it meant a lot those of us Germans who are disgusted by their nation's past – knowing they can never make up for it, but trying nonetheless.

Even by the standards of Silvio Berlusconi’s epic life, it was an extraordinary week.

Silvio Berlusconi says the Italian people are behind him.

Italian newspapers were burning with gossip about how his relationship with an 18-year-old family friend was leading to his divorce, an Italian judge ruled that he had bribed his British tax lawyer and Berlusconi called his country’s immigrant detentions centres ‘concentration camps.'

“Really, he wants to talk to CNN this week?” That was my reaction to our producer, Gisella Deputato. For months she’s been working hard to secure a sit-down interview with Berlusconi where he could be more personal and reflective.

And so the date was set, well sort of. First it was Thursday, then Friday morning, then Friday afternoon.

Ok, we’re set, or so we thought. A couple of hours before the interview was to start, one of Berlusconi’s aides called to say the whole thing was off. Off? Did he get a hold of himself and think maybe it wasn't such a good time to speak to CNN? No, they told us, his neck had seized on him. Watch Paula Newton's interview with Berlusconi

So, the interview was thankfully rescheduled for Saturday morning. We arrived at Palazzo Grazioli, his official residence in Rome. The Palace is stately and filled with antiques but quite impersonal despite the dozens of personal photos on tables and desks.

Berlusconi was clearly in a bit of discomfort but was above all gracious. The interview lasted more than an hour and although there were some tough question about the corruption scandal, immigration and his private life, to my surprise the more revealing answers came from the more personal questions.

I was truly shocked to hear how much he thought his job was now a burden to him and the fact that he truly believed his gaffes were a creation of the media.

On and on he went, rallying against the Italian left and the evil newspapers who he said continue to print lies about him.

But it was still interesting to see a glimpse of the leader who seems to steal the show at every summit or meeting with his demeanour. He openly admits he tries to crack jokes during all his political gatherings just to try and cut the tension. But, he assured me, the jokes are always on him.

And so there he was, telling me a jokes. My favourite was about one of his first meetings with former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. He told her he wasn’t sleeping well at night because he was reading the next day’s papers before he went to bed and they were upsetting him. Thatcher told him that was his first mistake, she only read the favorable articles and slept fine.

Berlusconi then tells me he returned to Rome determined to follow Thatcher’s strategy and told his staff to bring him only favourable articles. With perfect comic timing he pauses and says: “I didn’t see them for two months."

Berlusconi did at times seem obsessed, even downright paranoid about the criticism from the newspapers, the opposition and the country’s judges. It reflects his long-held belief that they are all out to get him.

Still, the interview was much more revealing than I thought it would be and Berlusconi put on the record that politically he believes he has never been more powerful. Despite all the scandal and criticism, Berlusconi pointed out that he has never been more popular with the Italian people.

To his critics dismay, in Italy Berlusconi is still the life of the party.

CRAIGAVON, Northern Ireland - It turns out the sound of a handheld battering ram breaking down a door is a percussive "whump whump" sound like a small cannon being fired over and over. We watch a police unit in Craigavon, Northern Ireland ram through the front door of a house just meters away from the scene where one of their own officers was gunned down in the line of duty.

A woman walks past a wall on Tuesday sprayed with “C IRA still at war” in Craigavon, Northern Ireland.

This is my first time to witness a raid on a house.

We arrived this morning in Craigavon to cover the aftermath of the shooting. The crime scene was cordoned off and police teams were combing the overlooking hillside with dogs sniffing the ground for clues.  Media were already clustered around the mouth of the street where Officer Stephen Carroll was shot in the head. Local politicians were coming and going talking to the press in TV-ready bites: offering condolences, resolving to take action, vowing not to allow the violence to derail the peace process.  

Across the small park, local residents were warily watching this scene with their baby strollers and pet dogs. They muttered amongst themselves. Whenever one of the media tried to approach them they moved quickly away.  

Craigavon is a town of about 80,000 people. It's a fairly even split between Catholic and Protestant residents. During the Troubles, Craigavon experienced the violence and strife of many torn communities in Northern Ireland. But since the peace agreement, it has slowly returned to a relative calm. Catholic and Protestant communities in the town are still quite separate and not exactly friends. But they do live side by side now with reasonable civility.

But this particular estate in Craigavon is known to be sympathetic to the IRA. There have been a series of recent incidents. An unexploded incendiary device went unreported a few days earlier, for example.  Last year, riots broke out and residents hurled petrol bombs and set buses on fire.

Walking among the houses, you can see the remains of graffiti sprawled across exterior walls. "Don't join Sinn Fein. Sell Out" reads one.  A faded "C IRA" is also visible on a bus stop, perhaps a reference to Continuity IRA, the splinter militant group that has claimed responsibility for the attack on Officer Carroll.

I try to approach several residents. But no one wants anything to do with me. Most just laugh and walk away. One woman with her baby snarls "you'll never get a word out of anyone here."  I'm not sure if it's my broad American accent or, in the case of one particularly belligerent woman who did not want to be filmed, the mistaken impression that I'm a BBC reporter. Or maybe it's just a general - and understandable - suspicion of the media. A few curious boys in school uniform ask where we're from. I tell them but they shrug their shoulders. No one seems to have heard of CNN.

Over the course of the day, we see a few house raids. Ironically, we are tipped off by one local resident who had refused to even look at me before. The raid begins with breaking the door down and then a forensics team in pristine white jumpsuits comb through the house with lights and plastic bags.  They are always flanked by police in bullet-proof vests cradling their rifles.

Amid the house raids, there are arrests. A 17-year old teenager and a 37-year old man. Both taken into custody a stone's throw away from the crime scene.

But what I find so strange is the reaction of the residents. They come out of their homes to view the proceedings as if it were the most normal thing. At one home - crawling with enough white jumpsuits to look like a scene from a sci-fi film - the neighbors bring out their coffee mugs and languidly smoke cigarettes as they watch the police move wordlessly in and out of the house next door.

Then a woman walks calmly up to the house and plops down two shopping bags in the yard. She has a quick word with police before being let in. Since none of the neighbors will speak to us, I think she may be one of the residents of the house, but I'm not sure. She seems almost resigned to the police presence in what I assume is her home.

I ask our driver, a Belfast local: "Doesn't this seem surreal to you? The normalcy of this scene, I mean. No one seems at all surprised."

But his answer does surprise me.

"Yes, it is a little surreal." He says mildly, "Not so long ago, they would have rioted if the police kicked their doors in like that. They're taking it very well."

And it's true. Clearly, no one here is happy with the police in their neighborhood breaking down doors. But no one is violently protesting it, either. Not yet. Even though IRA sympathies are strong in this neighborhood, splinter militant groups like Continuity IRA or Real IRA do not have widespread support in Northern Ireland.

The fact that Sinn Fein, the political wing of the IRA, is condemning the killings and urging people from the community to come forward to police with any information is a real mark of how far the peace process has come. Such unity from across Northern Ireland's severely fractured political spectrum would have been unheard of a few years ago. Especially if it involved the death of a police officer.

And that may be the question many residents in Craigavon are asking themselves – though they won't discuss it with me: Whatever their personal political views, does anyone here really want a return to the Troubles again?

LONDON, England - It started out as a regular day in the office.

One of the raiders can be seen clutching stolen watches as the gang makes its getaway.

Isn't that how all good tales start?

After an early start I was all ready to shoot that final piece.

Location: Oxford Street, about 10 in the morning.

But we were thwarted, first by my inability to get my words out right, then by builders drilling, then by bikes revving a la speedway track.

And as I glanced over my shoulder in frustration, the noisemakers were clearly visible: two people on bikes making as much noise as possible with a crowd of spectators gathered around. Dressed all in black with helmets and balaclavas, they looked - to the denizens of Oxford Street - as if they were on a film shoot. To complete that illusion, we gave the bikers the compliment of keeping our camera rolling. In fact, the scene was rather more entertaining than my piece.

In the space of a few minutes, the two loud bikers acquired two similarly dressed passengers, waving what quite clearly seemed to be a handful of shiny watches. A few more revs for effect, V signs and then they left noisily.

The result: Ah, a smashed jeweler's window, a very large sledge hammer that lay abandoned and a lot of spectators rather the wiser. Oh, and plenty of pictures gathered on mobile phones to entertain friends and family later.

This was not a film. It was real, and it was just another day on Oxford Street.

Watch how my story about a new book release turned into something more.

BARCELONA, Spain – Well, we've arrived in Barcelona for the Mobile World Congress and have hit the ground running. As I write, producer Adam Charlton and cameraman Woj are editing video of some cool gadgets that we shot earlier at "Show Stoppers" - a pre-show curtain raiser (see Adam's earlier blog entry.)

We went straight to the sprawling Congress venue from the airport. Unusually for the press we've been given access all areas, 24-hour passes, and so set immediately to work testing our satellite and camera equipment for tomorrow's broadcast. It was hard to believe that in less than 15 hours the place would be open for business. It was a hive of activity, with carpenters, electricians and exhibitors busily constructing their stands. Everywhere you looked were piles of construction waste.

The work will continue right through the night to ensure that everything's in shape before the 9 a.m. deadline, when thousands of people arrive from all over the world to see the latest innovations in the world of mobile technology.