But it is these imperfections that make Tripoli s medina so human and appealing. The Italian-influenced wooden doors, topped with rusty ironwork, are the only openings at ground level. On the upper floors drying laundry acts as makeshift shutters. Family life takes place in private around the inner courtyard. Children play in the carless streets.
Electrical wires weave a tangled web from house to house.
It is wonderful to lose oneself in this fantastic maze of myriad laneways. Here and there I discover a little caf , a disused Jewish school, the former French consulate, dilapidated hotels and well-kept mosques. I visit the al-Nagah mosque several times. The vaults of the prayer rooms are supported by ancient pillars that bear ecumenical witness to Roman mysteries, Byzantine feasts and Muslim prayers. If only they could speak.