A few months ago, while going through our attic, I found a discarded cardboard box sitting far away in the cobweb-filled darkness. I didn’t recognise it, nor did anyone else, and I simply assumed it was carelessly left behind by the previous residents. Having already lived in our house for over two years, I imagined, whatever the box contained, the former tenants had little interest in it being returned to them. I initially considered throwing it away unopened because I’m fundamentally lazy and the idea of tracking down the couple who had left it in our care seemed far too much like hard work. Thankfully, my wife intervened. Tearing off the slightly yellowing tape that had been holding the top down, she opened it up. What we found inside was not the expected contents of an unknown life, but diaries I’d kept in the first years of living in Germany. I opened a notebook, and read the first paragraph out loud:

“It is a universal fact that Germans hate small talk. There are thousands of websites that state it, hundreds of books written about it and every German I have ever met has mentioned it at some point. Small talk, in the eyes of Germans, is a waste of valuable time. Minutes of pointless chatter that could be used for more productive purposes. No one cares about the weather or what anyone did at the weekend, what we need to do is get our noses to the grindstone and get to work. That’s Germany; a land too busy to talk.”

“Clearly you were having a bad day” my wife commented, returning to the immediate issue of clearing out the attic. I didn’t join her, instead I attempted to work out when I’d written those words. After a little more reading, I realised it must have been at some point in 2017. I tried to remember what had sparked this angry reaction. Which conversation was I in and with whom? Sadly, the past version of me decided not to go into specifics, so I may never know why I felt so slighted.

What I did discover was rather more introspective. The various notebooks presented me with with a version of myself I didn’t necessarily recognise, nor agree with. It was clear I was troubled by my inability to wield small talk as I once had; as a way of breaking down barriers and getting to know people. I have very few useful skills, but I’ve always been able to rely on my ability to communicate, but since I’d left the UK, I was confronted by a different, although not totally alien, culture which I was struggling to get to grips with. The aspect of German life that I didn’t understand was that small talk just doesn’t function in the same way in Germany as it does in English-speaking countries. It’s strange to realise a key component of your communication is suddenly a liability and clearly, when I wrote that paragraph, I was feeling that frustration.

What I know now, but didn’t back in 2017, is that English speakers use small talk out of a culturally specific sense of politeness, especially with strangers. Not all, mind you, but enough to make it noticeable. Then there are those who feel compelled to talk about the weather, due to a deep sense of social awkwardness. Especially in Britain, when stuck in an uncomfortable silence, a little light chat about the continuing rain, or the unseasonably warm weather, can lighten the mood or at least release some of the social tension that can accumulate in a lift, or the back of a taxi, or when meeting people for the first time.

None of the reasons mentioned for English small talk are convincing in Germany, which means that engaging in small talk with strangers can be a coin flip. There’s as much a chance that you’ll be snubbed as there is to have a pleasant conversation about some neutral topic. However, there are plenty of places where small talk works as I might expect, but I’ve found it's usually context specific. For instance, my local butcher is very outgoing and very friendly. We talk about meat mostly, and when my daughter is with me, he usually talks about his own children. In contrast, there isn’t a vast amount of chatter between me and the many perfectly nice people who work on the checkouts at the supermarket. I go there just as often as I go to the butcher's, but we’re not chatting about our plans for the weekend. Context is key, and straying from the norm is, if not frowned upon, then at least confusing. This is probably why small talk in a lift can result in even more awkward silences. Chatting with people you know is fine, but turning abruptly to some random who got on at the 10th floor and saying “terrible weather we’re having” will likely return only strange looks.

Politeness and awkwardness are two strong reasons for small talk in the UK, but there is also a third reason someone might start chatting about nothing in particular. English speakers use small talk to learn about someone, or rather to “get to know” a person. For many, small talk is a bridge to building relationships, especially in a business setting. Those who use small talk in this way often do so because having a relationship with colleagues is vital for team cohesion, we have to feel like we are on good terms, even if this is something of a facade. We might never become best friends, but we would like to maintain the veneer of that possibility.

Germany doesn’t function in a similar fashion. There isn’t a need to have friendly relations with all colleagues, although it’s nice when it happens. Mostly people can rely on a base level of professionalism to make sure work is completed promptly. I’ve worked with hundreds of colleagues whose private lives were a mystery to me, who never spoke to me about anything other than the task at hand, and despite knowing next to nothing about them, we worked well together. They had no interest in my weekend plans, nor how many children I might have. What was more important was getting the work done so we could slap our thighs at the end of the day, declare the beginning of another Feierabend, and return to the enigma of our own lives.

Out-of-context social conversation can happen between strangers, but usually there has to be some impetus, like a shared problem or experience. If it does happen at all, it’s usually with people that have known each other for longer than a year or more. Even in professions that I’ve assumed to be reliably conversational, it can take far longer than I might expect. My wife’s hairdresser is very chatty, but early in the relationship their appointments were conducted in more or less total silence, aside from occasional questions about style and preference.

Social intimacy can move at a glacial pace in Germany, compared to the rest of the world, and more than enough people I know have complained about it. Building relationships, romantic or otherwise, can take far longer too, enough so that new arrivals will often have questions about coldness or distance during a date with a German. German men especially seem to take months before they begin to open up, to the point that I’ve seen Reddit posts asking why, after six months of dating, a partner suddenly starts acting like a lovesick puppy. Even more questions come up about making friends in Germany. I wonder how much that perceived coldness is real and how much of it is connected to a misunderstanding around small talk.

Possibly the most important part of the small talk conundrum is the fact that the way politeness is expressed by English-speaking cultures could be considered as superficial charm by Germans. From speaking to German friends and family, one of the gravest communication sins is to be perceived as superficial or smarmy. Superficiality is usually shown through needless conversation, which has led to questions about small talk. More than once I’ve been asked if “How are you?” is really a question, which is quickly followed by “Does the other person really want to know?” as if Germans are suspicious of any English speaker trying to engage in the smallest of conversations. The fact the question is even being asked tells me something about the trust placed in English communication.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that in order to operate in a different country, a person must adapt. The hardest part I’ve found is to navigate life in Germany without the outlet that small talk provides. Occasionally, I’m almost compelled to blurt out some asinine conversation starter in a situation where I know for certain it will drop like a lead balloon. Cultural programming can be powerful when motivated by social awkwardness or a need to be polite. Whenever I hear the inevitable “Okay” as a response to my attempt to start a conversation, I take some small comfort from the knowledge I probably didn’t care what they thought about the grey January skies anyway.

Proofreader: @ScandiTina

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