Betty had waned to see the Pool of Bethesda, but we only had a very basic map and an even more basic sense of direction. We managed to make our way from the Christian section (saying goodbye to Emir) to the Arab section, which was more narrow, crowded, loud, colorful and full of strange spices and foods. We passed shops with porches full of old men sitting on low wicker chairs, smoking water pipes; their cups of Turkish coffee rested on low, small, squarish wicker tables. We asked merchants for directions, made innumerable turns, backtracked and went in the opposite direction, and got hopelessly disoriented. Finally, an Arab woman in black robes and a white veil said, �Come with me.� She took us to a turn in the road through a residential Arab neighborhood, and from there two little boys, whom we promised $1.00 each, led us through the twisting, winding streets to the Church of Saint Anne, next to St. Stephen�s Gate. We had traversed the entire Old City (parts of it several times over!) on foot in about forty-five minutes.
Entering the Romanesque white stone Church, we make our way to the Pool of Bethesda�a complex of deep reservoirs and the ruins of countless churches built and destroyed over the centuries. |