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Image: Midjourney x The Sandy Times
Small talk has always been my social kryptonite. You know — that cheerful mention of a local event, a casual inquiry into your weekend activities, or a seemingly random question about where you are from, making you realise how much people can learn about you in seconds. I used to think I was just bad at it, but turns out I was also culturally misaligned.
I grew up in Russia, where people tend to keep things pretty reserved at first. No unnecessary chit-chat, no “how are you?” unless you actually want the answer. But once you break the ice (which, fair warning, can take time and emotional stamina), you are in for deep, soulful conversations and friendships that feel like family. In other words: distant by default, but warm once the wall comes down.
Then I moved to the Netherlands.
Here, small talk is practically a national sport. You say hi to your neighbour. You chat with the cashier. You discuss the weather (in detail) with your postman. And yes, you are expected to complain about train delays to a fellow passenger. As someone who still struggles with making casual conversation without sweating internally, this was… an adjustment.
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Image: Midjourney x The Sandy Times
When I first moved to Amsterdam, I was genuinely puzzled by how much small talk was happening around me. People would casually strike up conversations in the most random places, from shops to the streets — and I never quite knew how to respond.
It got even trickier when I got a dog. Suddenly, every walk turned into a social event. Not a single stroll went by without someone starting a chat — and the questions weren’t just about the dog anymore. People would ask where I was from, how long I had lived in the city, even what I did for a living. I would often freeze mid-sentence, trying to figure out the “right” reply. I probably came across as rude or aloof, when in reality, I was just completely thrown off by the unexpected social pressure.
Back in Russia, that kind of cheerful talk with strangers is simply not the norm. People tend to keep to themselves unless there is a reason to connect — and when they do open up, it is usually meaningful and intentional. So being thrown into a culture where small talk was expected and constant left me feeling out of sync. Not because I didn’t want to engage, but because I didn’t yet know how to.
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Image: Midjourney x The Sandy Times
Trying to adapt, I pushed myself to engage more by responding proactively, asking questions, and keeping the conversation going. And it worked — there was progress. But now, whenever I travel back to Russia and throw in a cheerful joke with a stranger, I get the look — that suspicious side-eye that says, "Why are you talking to me?”
So, I float somewhere in between cultures — too chatty for home, too awkward for here. But weirdly enough, I have grown to appreciate this in-between space. Small talk might never feel natural to me, but I have learned that showing a bit of interest — even if it is about the clouds — can go a long way. It isn't about pretending to be someone else, just softening the edges.
I am still socially awkward, and I may never be the master of small talk, but I have learned to embrace it as part of the rhythm of daily life and, in a way, even enjoy it.
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