Germans tend to be a well-educated bunch. And it's a good thing too. Even the simplest operations here seem to require an IQ of at least 150. Need a subway ticket? The machine seemingly designed for that purpose comes complete with dozens of different travel options, myriad colorful buttons and handful of varying "convenient" payment options to choose from. And pages of instructions helpfully confuse you to the point where hailing a cab instead becomes a real option.

Want to get a digital telephone hook-up for your new apartment? You'll receive a package of hardware from the phone company with the expectation that you install it yourself.

But the real challenge awaits. What to do with the packaging that comes with your new telecommunications equipment? Those who say, "Throw it out!" have obviously never been to Germany. Wander into your apartment building's courtyard and behold -- a rainbow of different color-coded garbage containers. One for green glass. One for brown glass. One for white glass. One for paper. One for "packaging." One for organic waste. One for metal. And, as if there might be anything left over, there's a bin for the leftovers.

What to do? Reader Lina Aue from Gothenburg, Sweden describes the problem:

During a visit to Berlin in March this year, some friends and I were in Zoo Station looking to head across town on the S-Bahn. While some of us were trying to figure out the train schedule, I went to chuck out some garbage gathered from a recently devoured Curry Wurst.

Confusion soon followed as we were confronted by The Waste Bin. Used to London tubes and their complete lack of garbage receptacles, we were at first just happy to find one. But then the difficulties started. It's not one trash can; it's a four-in-one, color-coded riddle. Each hole is reserved for one single kind of waste. And labelled in four different languages! Was my ketchup-smeared paper tray "waste"? Was it "paper"? Or perhaps "emballage"?! And was there no place for the metal Coke can? Would putting all of it in the laissez faire "waste" hole send us straight to prison?

The Germans, in short, take their garbage seriously. Never mind the anecdotal sightings of waste collectors chucking it all into one truck. Separating garbage in Germany is like a rigorous religious devotion and those who do it correctly rapidly approach Teutonic nirvana. Indeed, refusing to separate trash into distinct typologies is one of the few acts of rebellion Germans are still tempted to engage in.

The issue even clogs up time in the German parliament. For years now, the government has been wrangling about the ominously-named Dosenpfand -- "can deposit." How much should it be? How should it be collected? Where can consumers return their cans? And the discussion is routinely splashed across the front pages of the country's newspapers. It's no wonder major reform continues to be bottle-necked.