Manama: "No further," a Bahraini Defence Force sergeant says as he steps out from the passenger side of a dark green Nissan Patrol.

In the the open door rests a matte black shotgun — on the roof of the Patrol sits a canvas covered heavy machine gun.

In the background, a tantalising 150 metres away, is the roadworks that once was Pearl Roundabout — a focal point for anti-government protests here in February and March.

A Sony video camera on a tripod records all comers and goers. The fish market is open for business, but the smell, rather than the soldiers guarding it, is a deterrent for those who dare venture this far.

Although a three-month military imposed curfew on parts of the city was lifted two weeks ago, the area near the roundabout — and other sensitive parts of the capital — remains under virtual lockdown.

The approach to the roundabout is lined with coils of razor wire nearly two metres high.

At nearby Dana Mall, about a kilometre from where the white concrete monument which was the epicentre of turmoil months ago once stood, gone are the tracked desert-camouflaged heavy armoured personnel carriers, replaced by a dozen dark green light ones instead.

In the past three months, Bahrainis — both Sunni and Shiites alike — have come to grips with the presence of the military on city streets.

Lifted curfew

"In the past two weeks, since the curfew was lifted, more and more tourists are coming back," says Mohammad, a taxi driver. "Slowly, things are getting back to normal, Inshallah."

A huge part of "getting back to normal" will be the national dialogue talks which will have its initial session here this morning.

So far, the spokesperson for the national dialogue committee says that 94 per cent of those invited to the talks will be taking part, representing various parties, NGOs and political societies. In addition, the government has ordered an independent human rights investigation on the events surrounding the worst political strife to hit the kingdom in more than a decade. That impartial panel is expected to announce its findings in October.

At a Friday brunch at the Crowne Plaza in Manama's diplomatic area, western expatriate families are relaxing to the thumping hits of a Filipino cover band.

"Yeah, it's back to normal," a portly, short and balding food and beverage manager says as he surveys the room, mentally toting up the day's covers, "Yeah," he smiles. "Definitely back to normal."

Two glassy-eyed and dyed women whoop as they enjoy the brunch.

"Bahrain is back!" one says with a thick Liverpool accent. "The brunches are back on. Woo hoo!"

At Jidhafs market, stalls are full of fruit and vegetables. This is a Shiite village on the outskirts of the city.

In March, grey alum-inium bins were strewn across its streets, blocking the approaches with glass and nails and the detritus of political protest. Yesterday, the detritus was gone.

But there are still hard looks at strangers and interlopers into this tight-knit community.

Hours before, a police helicopter had patrolled for hours overhead while, overnight, riot police fired the occasional tear gas round and shotgun blast at rock-throwing anti-government protesters.

Gone from sight are troops belonging to the Peninsula Shield forces from Saudi Arabia and the UAE, sent in to assist the Bahraini government to maintain law and order in the face of serious violence.

Gone too are the steel helmets on the heads of the soldiers manning the checkpoints, replaced instead by neatly creased black berets. The Sony video cameras on tripods are there. Gone too are the helicopters circling above the Pearl Roundabout. That is gone too.

What remains, however, is a desire to close the book on a chapter of violence in Bahrain.

The national dialogue talks are a good beginning?

"Inshallah," Mohammad answers.

Who can argue?