The Victory Column, otherwise known as the Siegessäule (or, alternately, as the Goldelse), is a ten minute walk from our place. When I’m grocery shopping or going for a run along the Spree, I look over and see Lizzy, and no matter how miserable I am (grocery shopping and running don’t make my Sound of Music-esque list of favorite things), I get all thankful and sentimental. Berlin is a super great place to live, despite the fact that celery, brown sugar, and cilantro are hard to come by at the non-specialist grocers, and running is just awful.

My guidebook describes the views from the Siegessäule as “so-so,” which I think is a little Eeyore-ish, don’t you?

Pretty much any time I get a glimpse of the TV Tower my heart goes pitter-patter (the same goes for seeing any kind of cake, and Death’s Head).

The top of the tower can get cold and windy. If you’re visiting in the winter, bring clothing reinforcements. If you’re visiting in the summer, well la di da, aren’t you fancy?!

But Elsie seems to manage just fine. Maybe if I had a gold dress I would magically be more graceful? Or I would be seriously weighed down, because “science” says gold is kind of heavy.

The world would be a much a happier place if everyone loved where they lived as much as I do.

P.S. It costs 3 Euro to climb to the top of the Victory Column and experience the views. If you also consider them “so-so,” I suggest you give that admission money to me, and I will go up there and be positive on your behalf.

Here is our heroine in 1969 in Kleinwalsertal, Austria.

Previously on Tuesdays with Eva: Meet Eva, Nov. 29, Dec. 6, Dec. 13, and Dec. 20.

Remember 2011? Well, back in December I made a solo visit to Potsdam (15 miles outside of Berlin) while DH was busy earning his keep.

Until 1918, Potsdam was the home to Prussian royalty. Now it’s just home to regular old boring Joes.

My main goal was to visit the Schloss Sancoussi, but I missed the bus stop and ended up the Orangerieschloss instead. The grounds were practically empty.

Apparently the Orangery served as a guest house for foreign royalty and their ilk. Now it seems like the inside is mostly overgrown with plants. Let’s hope that there are no dead dignitaries in there.

After some solitary exploration of the Orangery grounds, I walked east toward Sancoussi. This windmill is one hundred percent functional and zero percent historic (it’s a replica):

Frederick the Great is responsible for Schloss Sancoussi. It’s a modest building by palace standards, but lovely regardless.

You won’t like Schloss Sancoussi if you don’t like the color yellow.

If you’re on the fence, I recommend visiting in the middle of a mostly-grey December, and then basking in the resulting pick-me-up. Why not give yellow a fighting chance?

The Sancoussi Palace is famous for its beautiful gardens. The grounds are pretty in the winter, although my guess is that their time to shine is in the warmer months.

From the palace I took a bus back into the town center, where the Christmas markets were in full swing. Christmas markets are old news now, so let’s just move on.

Berlin’s Brandenburger Tor is a fame monger, but Potsdam’s Brandenburger Tor is the older of the two Tors. I’ll let you decide which one is cooler, because I resent having to make all of your decisions for you.

I spent four hours in Potsdam but only saw a few of its major sites.

On my next visit, I intend to visit the historic bridge where spies were exchanged during the Cold War. Of course, I’ll bring a suitcase full of top secret documents, sidle up to a tourist on the bridge and say,”The weather in Volgograd is good this time of year, I’m told.“

Possibly the best part about our already-charming Berlin neighborhood is the corner coffee shop, where the coffee is both amazing and affordable.

The foam in particular deserves a special mention, although I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention that great line from Zoolander: “Todd! Are you not aware that I get farty and bloated with a foamy latte?” But the foam at Fiaker is creamy and delicious, so unless you’re lactose intolerant, let’s just assume that you’ll enjoy it.

The cappuccinos and lattes are tasty, but a café au lait  is served generously in a bowl, so that’s what I like to order. You know, quality and quantity and all that.

Fiaker is the consummate spot for newspaper-reading, gently breaking it to an old pal that you didn’t actually like the movie The Notebook, writing the next great young adult novel about vampires addicted to shopping at Hot Topic, or lolling. I usually go with lolling.

The Blue Mosque is Istanbul’s premier place of worship, but there are other amazing mosques scattered throughout the city. They are all of a similar style, which is cool. When you find something that works, you just go with it, kind of like J.K Rowling and those books about some guy named Harry.

The Istanbul harbor, while lovely, smells a lot like fish, bird poo, and pollution. But it’s all very exotic and exciting, so it’s okay.

There were a whole bunch of guys fishing off of a bridge into the possibly polluted water. The tenacity of the fishers was admirable, but we were skeptical of the quality of the catch.

The fishermen knew a good hang-out/photo-op when they saw one, though.

Our tour along the Bosphorus was grey, cold, windy, and beautiful. After ten minutes on the upper deck, we went below for some warmth and cheap tea.

The boat was half full with enthusiastic tourists from all over the world. DH and I found a window seat downstairs out of the cold, listened to the babble of lots of different people, looked out the window, and felt relaxed.

The 1.5 hour cruise took us past many fascinating sights, such as the above castle. Once back on the mainland, the first order of business was to find a place to eat lunch. We ate across from another of Istanbul’s mosques.

Then it was off to see the Grand Bazaar, a giant maze of mostly covered streets, filled with traditional Turkish wares along with booths full of pirated shoes and perfumes. We started off in the book section, because we’re only human and we cannot resist the smell of old brown books.

We attempted to repeat the success of the previous day by looking for a coffee shop with free wi-fi to wile away the hours and recover our energy. Our guidebook recommended a coffee shop not far from the bazaar, but our map-reading skills and lack of 3G turned a short walk into an hour-long search.

When we finally found the coffee shop and ordered caffeine to revive our weary limbs, we discovered that wi-fi was neither free nor available, which meant that we would have to actually talk to each other? On our anniversary? With our faces? We were confused. On the upside, our coffees were delicious (complete with spoons made out of chocolate!), and our accidental exploration led us past yet another pretty mosque.

So that’s what we did in Istanbul in two days. This is me signing off from our Christmas holiday coverage. Over and out. *Collapse*

Istanbul was such a treat, largely due to the Archaeology Museum. You know by now that DH is complete putty when it comes to history of the ancient variety (Cold War history gets him pretty giddy, too), and the Archaeology Museum was top notch.

If you’ll let me get all technical for just a minute, the Istanbul Archaeology Museum is actually 3 museums on one easy-access campus. This is the museum that houses all the pretty mosaics:

All of DH’s favorite stuff was in the bigger of the three buildings. The “Death’s Head” nickname proves more apt as time goes on, since DH is less and less into watching butterflies and reciting Wordsworth poems. Gnarly skeletons and old tombs are more his thing.

The heavy hitter at the Archaeology Museum is the Alexander Sarcophagus, once believed to have been the final resting place of Alexander the Great. The people who thought that turned out to have been so very very wrong, but the sarcophagus is still noteworthy for just how intricate and ancient it is.

In Istanbul I learned that archaeology is mostly about digging up dead people’s tombs. I’m sure none of the dead people mind that their religious beliefs are being trampled on centuries after their death!

When I saw this next one, all I could think was, “Look, it’s the Albino from The Princess Bride! ‘You survived the Fire Swamp, so you must be very brave, but no one withstands the Machine.’” I think almost entirely in movie quotes.

One part of the museum has a section of the Ishtar Gate on display. The majority of this bad boy is housed in Berlin at the Pergamon Museum, over which there is some controversy. I don’t get involved in controversies, I just show other lions who’s boss. [Me. I'm the boss. See?]

After we had carefully perused all of the tombs at the museum, we took some time to wander around Istanbul’s Sultanahment neighborhood. It was cold, but also colorful.

During our wanderings, we visited the site of the old Roman Hippodrome, of which this Obelisk was an original fixture:

One of the big deals in Istanbul is the Blue Mosque, which is conveniently located right next to the Hippodrome.

Completed in 1616, the Blue Mosque is still a fully-functioning Mosque, in addition to be being a famous tourist attraction. We were there on a Friday during an early afternoon call to prayer, so we had to wait to go in and look around. In the meantime, we took some pictures and expressed surprise for the umpteenth time at the bitter cold. 

The Blue Mosque’s real name is the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, but people got distracted by the blue tile decorations on the inside and a nickname was birthed.

My favorite part of the Blue Mosque was the plush red carpeting. No shoes are allowed inside, and walking shoeless on that carpet felt especially comfy.

Another famous building dominating Istanbul’s skyline is the Hagia Sofia. Byzantine Emperor Justinian oversaw the church’s construction, and felt very braggy about it once it was finished.

The Hagia Sofia was at the heart of Eastern Orthodox Christianity for many years, until one day the Ottomans rode into town and were like, “This is the perfect spot for a Mosque.” The church was in disrepair by then, so the Ottomans prettied it up, disguised the Christian decor, and the Aya Sofia Mosque was born.

These days it’s a museum first and foremost, which means they feel totally comfortable charging an entrance fee, and I don’t blame them (do you know who “they” are? They refuse to return my calls!).

Our favorite part of the Aya Sofia was the recovered mosaic on the second floor. When the Ottomans reappropriated the church, they plastered over the original art work. Some of the golden mosaics have thankfully been recovered and they look so shiny!

We have a tendency to overextend ourselves when we travel because we want to see all the things. One of the best ideas we had in Istanbul was to find a charming cafe with a view of the bay and just sit there for a few hours.

DH consumed a Turkish coffee, I drank a coke, we flipped through the guide book, checked our messages, pretended that Facebook was important, and occasionally held hands and made eye contact.

Travel adventures are best when they’re bookended by comfortable bouts of sitting quietly and basking in free wi-fi, and Istanbul turns out to be a great place to bask.

For our final day in Jerusalem our main goal was to visit the Temple Mount. If you don’t want to read to the end of this post, you should know that we achieved our goal! Ain’t it great being successful?

The Dome of the Rock dominates Jerusalem’s skyline. Last time we were in the area, we tried to visit the Temple Mount but were turned away by guards with guns. This year they were on a lunch break.

The rules for visiting the Temple Mount are long and complicated. For starters, any time during the call to prayer is off limits. Fridays are out completely and rumor has it that Saturdays are also a no-go.

It seems that your only chance to visit is between 7:30 and 10am Sundays through Thursdays, and you can expect a line or two of security before you just waltz in.

The entrance for visitors is right next to the Wailing Wall, where security is controlled by the Israelis. The word “strained” doesn’t do the situation justice as heavily-armed Israeli soldiers search devout Muslims before letting them in to their place of worship. Therapists must make bank in Jerusalem.

To enter the Temple Mount you must be dressed modestly, which meant that DH had to put his pants back on.

I was pretty much the only female tourist who bothered with a head covering, but I kept it on due to a deep-rooted fear of being yelled at (I blame the swim instructor I had when I was seven). DH wanted to use his pants as a head covering but after a stern look from me, even he saw that he had crossed a pretty big line.

You may not know this (you’re young, maybe?), but religious sites that inspire intense inter-religious arguments are the perfect place to pose for pictures.

Jerusalem is cramped, crowded, and, if I can be honest, dirty. Most of its real estate is vigorously disputed. By strange contrast, the Temple Mount feels wide open, calm, and oddly peaceful.

The grounds are mostly pristine and breath-taking (almost exactly what you would expect from a religious site that attracts visitors and pilgrims from around the world), so it was jarring to stumble upon what was essentially a trash heap during our exploration of the holy site.

The religious attendees seemed unfazed by all the tourists, and the sheer amount of space on the Temple Mount meant that the more pious could focus their energies on worship and prayer with few disturbances.

Perhaps we had a skewed view of things since we were strictly prohibited from entering either the Dome of the Rock or the Al-Asqa Mosque, but despite the prayer circles, the Temple Mount felt almost jovial. On one corner of the property we found three little boys joyously sliding down a slope on a rug, hollering and laughing and going completely unnoticed by everyone.

I’m not capable of being profound when summing up our experience at the Temple Mount. We experienced a slew of feelings, including awe at how beautiful, peaceful, and contested it was up there. The blue sky was a little overwhelming, too.

I’m back for more Jerusalem recapping. To catch you up: there’s a lot to do in the Holy City. For example, you could visit the City of David, which we happened to do. Coincidence? Don’t over-think it.

The City of David is the site of an ongoing archaeological dig located in a very old part of Jerusalem.

There’s some controversy surrounding the findings so far, which should come as no surprise to you. Jerusalem attracts a lot of controversy. For example: where can you find the best bagel in the Old City?  Holy Bagels or Tal Bagels? Oh, the controversy!

We joined a guided City of David tour, which turned out to be mostly useless because for every clever question meant to stump, baffle, and amaze us, my dad knew the answer. After a while he just stopped answering questions, but I could tell he was quietly suffering.

Our tour guide was actually very sweet. At one point she made a joke about King David carving “Dave & Sheeba 4 Eva” into a tree, and the crowd paused awkwardly and then let out a belated chuckle. I guess it’s a thing to hate humor now?

The guided tour took almost three hours. There was a lot of interesting stuff about water tunnels and engineering and history, but much of it was lost on me because the tunnels were craggy, bumpy, and low-ceilinged. Most of my mental and physical efforts were spent on proudly representing the family name by not tripping like an idiot.

One time in high school I took the Myers-Briggs, so I know myself pretty well, and I knew that I would feel safer and more at ease once I was back on a wide, well-lit path. I was right.

We became quite fond of our tour guide, even if she did spend a lot of time preaching to the choir (the choir being my dad). She posed cheerfully with  my mum and her BFF at no extra cost:

By the time we had learned all we could learn about Hezekiah’s Tunnel, Warren’s Shaft, the Pool of Shiloach, and the Bottomless Pit where you die of starvation (you’ll have to visit the City of David to find out which of those things I just made up), it was dark and we were hungry.

We rested our legs and stuffed our faces at the Armenian Tavern. The food was tasty, the company pleasant, and the atmosphere charming.

It was a very good day, followed by me sleeping for at least 10 hours. One thing (in addition to the many other things) I will say about Jerusalem: it’s exhausting.

I knew it was a Holocaust museum, but I was only partly right. The Holocaust History Museum is what most people come to see, but there are also many memorials throughout the property, along with research buildings, an art gallery, a visitor’s center, and a synagogue.

The name of the complex comes from Isaiah: “I will give in my house and within my walls a monument and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off.” Yad Vashem means “A Memorial and a Name.”

Mum’s friend had the foresight to arrange a guided tour for us. Our tour guide, a transplant to Israel from England, was a gem. She gave us a three-hour tour, which was emotionally exhausting, but did not feel like three hours.

The Holocaust History Museum is housed in the triangular building, representing a section of the Star of David.

The museum is thoughtfully put together and impressively curated. Every item has a purpose and a story. Our wonderful tour guide gave us the historical overview along with some more personal stories about the lives of specific individuals during the Holocaust. The museum flows mostly chronologically, with the final section focusing on the struggles faced after the war ended.

No matter how well-versed you are in this terrible chapter of history, Yad Vashem has much to teach and tell. Please visit. And then please hug your loved ones.

During our first trip to Israel we visited Caesarea and it went over well, so when we were in the area in December, we visited again. It’s okay to see cool things twice.

This go around we spent most of our time at the amphitheater, which we only glimpsed through a gate last time.

DH was in his element. His giddiness is always contagious at places of historic significance.

Some of the signs were difficult to decipher. No standing on chairs? Don’t bring in planks of wood? Was this a foreigner trap?

Even if you don’t like the Romans (I watched Gladiator, I know they weren’t always pleasant), Caesarea is worth it for the beachfront alone. But I dare you to visit and not be fascinated by the ruins, too.

I got a chance to try out my chariot-driving skills, but giving the horses compliments and boosting their self-esteem didn’t get me very far. My guess is that if I were magically transported to Roman times, I would probably be used as gladiator fodder rather than as a glorious charioteer, but you never know when magic is in play.

DH radiated happiness all day long, even through his awesome sunglasses that still allow him to wear his regular glasses, just like the Hollywood stars.

It costs money to get in to the main attractions at Caesarea, but a few blocks away you can visit an old Roman aqueduct for free. Israeli bonus fist bump!

We made good use of our time at the aqueducts by taking lots of pictures of our little group. My parents’ besties from their Russia days were in town for the holidays and had a great time catching up with each other.

And you know my bestie:

Another good reason to visit Israel, as if you needed another, is the abundance of pretty places to have your picture taken.