Scores of buildings collapsed, with fewer than 2,500 now. In a few areas whole swaths toppled, leaving gaping spaces the size of a soccer field filled with building rubble and junk. One even holds the weathered carcass of an old fishing boat. Otherwise the entire old city is a warren of whitewashed two-story houses fronting narrow streets, many barely wide enough for a fully laden camel, not to mention a car. The passageways curve away mysteriously, a quick turn occasionally producing a dead end.
Arches span most passageways.
Aside from supporting the houses, they are used to stretch palm matting overhead in summer to block the blistering sun. The date of the huge stone walls that once encircled the whole thing remains unclear, but as late as 1900 heavy wooden gates at various points slammed shut at sundown. Eventually great sections of wall were knocked down for roads. Much of the area is virtually a slum, with raw sewage carving a path through the mud. In the covered bazaars working markets where Libyans buy goods ranging from gold to suitcases to wool cloaks the merchants say that rising crime no longer lets them leave shops unattended.