Later that night, DH and I were hit with a wave of insomnia. After an hour or so of chatting and laughing at stupid jokes (friendship is the most valuable kind of ship, ha ha, it’s funny because it’s literally not true), we admitted that we weren’t going to be able to sleep, so DH brought his laptop to bed and asked me to read to him. I thought nothing of it.

He chose the same article from earlier in the day. The title: “Arby’s Now Charging $2.99 To Let Customers Go Behind Counter, Grab Handfuls Of Roast Beef.” I chuckled a little as I read the first few paragraphs, which I had seen already, and then I got to the new material and totally lost it.

Unbeknownst to me, DH had secretly turned on the computer webcam (he covered the light with some paper and a sticky note with a work reminder on it). Proof that I didn’t know I was being filmed: my posture, my hair, the way I held the computer on my lap at the least flattering angle, and my total lack of dignity and grace.

I’m posting the video here not because I think it will be of interest to you, but because these are the kind of marriage moments we like to remember. The more silly memories we have, the easier it is to forget about the time we fought over hypothetical duvet covers which neither of us had any intention of buying in the first place.

I’ve included the transcript below because I am almost totally unintelligible and the audio is poor. Click through at your own risk to see everything that’s silly and the best about being awake in the middle of the night with your BFF who gets a kick out of your dumb laugh.

[Joel says, "Come on, start from the beginning."] During a press event at Arby’s headquarters last week, the company officially launched its new $2.99 Grab-N-Go Meal Deal, which allows patrons to go behind the counter at any franchise location and grab as much roast beef as they can with their bare hands. [Brief giggling.]

“We’re thrilled to announce an exciting new dining option that lets customers step right into our kitchen and dig hands-first into our famous slow-roasted beef,” spokesman Gavin Milne said while standing in front of a cardboard cutout that depicted Oven Mitt—the Arby’s mascot—cupping a steaming mound of beef slices. “As soon as we ring up your transaction, you have 15 seconds to grab all the meat you can carry, and however much you manage to bring back across the counter is yours to eat—all for under $3! Who could resist?”

“Or why not try our Cheesy Grab-N-Go Meal Deal for just 75 cents more, and we’ll let you use one of your hands to scoop as much melted cheese as you’d like from our Bottomless Cheddar Trough,” Milne continued. “It’s that same Arby’s taste you love, but piled high in your own two hands.” [Minor giggling.]

According to Milne, Grab-N-Go customers will be allowed to dunk their beef-crammed fists into any of several large pails of condiments [Pause for giggling.], including barbecue, ranch, and the chain’s signature Horsey Sauce, free of charge. [Excessive laughter. “I can’t read it because I have tears in my eyes.”]

For an extra dollar, company sources confirmed, [Laughter, crying. “I can’t read it!] patrons  [Excessive laughter. “I can’t see because I have tears!”] will be able to select the Arby’s “Max” option [More giggling.], which allows them to plunge right into a juicy roast beef pile with their open mouths [Laughter break. “I can’t see it! Coughs.] and ingest as much as they can within the 15-second time limit.

“Letting people sprint around the counter and take as much roast beef as they are physically able to pick up was really the next logical step in our business model.” [Extreme case of the giggles.]  ”We’ve found most Arby’s customers would rather not hassle with vegetables, buns, or trays. [More laughing.] They just want beef, and they want it fast, fresh, and wadded up in their mouths. [Giggling, coughing.]

Meal Deal participants reportedly will be required to keep their pockets turned inside out at all times, and won’t be allowed to carry items that could be used to hoard extra meat, such as hats [High pitched voice, laughter.], cargo pants [Cackling, coughing.], or pocketbooks. Patrons will also be barred from tucking in their shirts and dumping roast beef down their collars [Guffawing, crying.], which the company acknowledged had been a recurring problem in its Dallas and Memphis test markets. [Giggles.]

Additionally, officials emphasized that customers may not pick up beef that spills onto the floor, as any such droppings remain the property of Arby’s and will be promptly returned to the meat pile. [Laughing and crying. Joel says “Ouch” because his stomach hurts from the laughing.]

Despite these restrictions, Grab-N-Go appears to have generated instant popularity. At Arby’s locations nationwide, sources re­ported similar scenes of long lines, frantic scrambles over beef-laden steam trays, and scores of out-of-breath patrons cradling heaps of meat against their chests.

“I’ve come here every day since they started this,” said Kansas City customer Roy Arnold, 41, as he enjoyed two dripping handfuls of roast beef while standing over one of the numerous garbage cans that have replaced tables [Laughter break.]  at most Arby’s locations. “After a few times through, you really get the hang of how to use your chin and hands together to keep a big mound from falling over.” [High voice. Laughter. Tears. Coughing.]

“Lots of times, I’ll grab a couple handfuls and put them in the glove compartment [Uncontrollable laugh attack.] so I have something to munch on while I’m driving,” [Laughter, coughing.] “Then I fill my cup holder with Horsey Sauce [Pause for laughter.] so I can just dip the beef in there. It’s really good.”

While most patrons lauded the Meal Deal, many noted that the behind-the-counter scrum for roast beef could become chaotic and intense, and that it was essential to be aggressive and defend one’s position during the 15-second free-for-all. [Coughing.]

“There’s a lot of shoving and clawing, and you have to watch out for people trying to steal the meat right out of your hands. But as long as you hold your ground, it’s really an unbeatable deal. See? Just look at all this beef I got!”

In the wake of Arby’s immediate and overwhelming success, other fast food chains are reportedly rushing to debut their own self-serve dining options. Sources confirmed that for $1.85, Dairy Queen has begun allowing patrons to place their mouths on the soft-serve nozzle [Pause for giggles.] and consume as much as they can before they need to take a breath. [High voice, giggling, crying.]

However, a similar deal at Popeyes was halted recently after the FDA determined the health of the restaurant’s clientele would be gravely endangered by the physical activity of walking behind the counter, bending forward, and grasping a piece of fried chicken.

Before realizing it was locked, I yanked on the door handle marked “Entrance” to no avail. I stepped up my efforts on a second, unmarked door, expecting to be met with similar difficulties, but instead I fell clumsily backwards as the door popped open easily. A stern man in vestments dismissed me saying that the church was closed. I asked confusedly about the six o’clock Evensong service, at which point his sternness turned into indifference and he ushered me inside.

The Berlin Cathedral is immense and overwhelming, both in terms of décor and seating capacity, but it was absolutely silent when I entered. There were, at most, twenty other attendees sitting scattered about the sanctuary as far apart from one another as possible, each strenuously avoiding eye contact. I realized later that most of them were there for the sole purpose of taking pictures at the end of the service.

Evensong lasted less than half an hour, and some seriously impressive organ performances took up most of that time. Everything was translated into English. The programs gave specific directions about what to do and when – mostly the directions were to keep to your seat and stay silent.

For the Lord’s Prayer, worshippers were instructed to stand and recite the Lord’s Prayer in their native tongue. Two out of the fifteen people stood up. The rest stared awkwardly at the floor.

When the service was over, the same priest who had shooed me away before the service stood blocking the exit with an offering plate in hand. There was no way to exit the cathedral without shaking hands, making eye-contact, and feeling pressured into giving money. I bumbled through a quick “thank you” for the service and exited back out into the rain, feeling strangely peaceful.

It was a beautiful service, I concluded, awkwardness, weirdness, and all.

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.