Chatting with strangers isn't only a matter of local custom; it also depends on the personalities of the people involved. Some people are just shyer than others.

I have always lived in cities, plus I am a little more introverted than most people, so I was never inclined to talk to strangers.

Then something happened that changed my habits a bit. The last job I had before I retired was running a "post office" window at a small university. (I was an employee of the university, not the US Postal Service, but I did a lot of the same things that are done at a real Post Office.) People brought me letters and packages they wanted to send, and I would compute the postage, sell them stamps, and give advice about different classes of mail, delivery times, and so on. I could also send things by UPS or Federal Express—that's a service you don't get at a real Post Office. And when people received things like certified mail, they had to come to the window and sign for it.

It was the first job I ever had that required me to interact a lot with the public. As I got better at my job, I also got better at making small talk with my customers.

I learned that the stuff that people send in the mail is often connected with momentous events in their lives. Students are sending off applications for jobs, study-abroad programs, internships, and graduate school. Their lives will be forever changed by the results of those applications, and they know it. I have seen students so jubilant over receiving an acceptance that they actually started "pogoing" right in front of me.

I have also dealt with professors sending off their manuscripts to be published, administrators sending off grant applications, and higher administrators sending off the documentation that would enable the university's accreditation to be renewed—which it had taken a year to prepare. I have handed over live "critters" to the university's biologists and who-knows-what to the forensic anthropologist.

I remember a professor coming to the window to mail a stack of letters of recommendation that he had written for his students. He remarked, "You know, coming to the post office is always a pleasant experience, because it always comes at the end of a lot of hard work."

Most of the time, it wasn't my business to know what was inside any envelope or package, so I wouldn't have known unless the sender/recipient chose to tell me, but I found people were often willing, even eager, to talk about what they were doing. So I became adept at making a comment that would elicit a story. I found that comments were better than questions, because I didn't want to appear nosy—although I was! I would say things like "I bet you've waited a long time for this," and if the person was in the right mood, the story would come pouring out.

Sometimes body language gives you a clue that people are willing to talk. If a person stood up straight and used a very businesslike tone of voice, then I would be businesslike also, and would leave them alone (beyond doing what they asked). But if they slumped over the counter and emitted a deep sigh as they handed over their package, it meant there was a story there waiting to be told.

My point is: talking to strangers is a skill that can be learned, although most people probably learn it—or not—unconsciously. And we don't have to be always limited by our past habits or the habits of people around us.