Germany, as the song goes, follows its own path. Rules aren’t arbitrary here; they’re the backbone of life. Waiting in line isn’t the end of the world—it’s the guarantee of order. Every time I visit Germany, I think of the Turkish waitress I met in a small town along Bavaria’s flamboyant Romantic Road. She was surprised we were tourists; to her, Germany wasn’t a place to visit but a place to work, save money, and return to her village in Sivas. Her dream was to escape to her village during her annual leave and forget Germany entirely after retirement. For me, though, Germany is a wonderland with its dark historical shadows, cities drenched in green, and human stories. This autumn, with leaves turning yellow and greens standing out vividly, I was in Germany again. I owe a debt of gratitude to the Germans for their understanding and cooperation in navigating the visa process for traveling to Europe—Turkey’s “lost donkey” in this regard. Berlin: The Curse of Concrete, the Hypocrisy of the...