Berlin, 11.30 p.m. I am standing in a long queue with a friend, waiting to buy food – very special food, obviously. 40 meters and 100 heads ahead, we can identify a food stall with a big sign saying “Mustafas Gemüsekebap”. “It usually takes up to two hours, but it’s worth it” my friend says, smiling. I’m looking at him, doubtfully – my stomach is already growling.