I entered a false name on the document.
I'm not sure how legally binding the the paperwork was. I was in a country that prides itself on a low reported crime rate. A population usually considered honest and hard-working.
As a foreigner (gaijin) living amongst them I am allowed to stray a little outside the social norms. People do not expect me to understand the complex rules of bowing or eating nato or using special toilet slippers (which never fit my huge feet anyway).
I wondered how far this accommodation would carry in the event of blatant dishonesty. Would it be a straw that breaks a camel's back.
As I returned to my seat in the waiting room I wondered if I would soon face the worst consequence a Japanese person could experience, public humiliation.
Would the uniformed man point out that not only did I place my shoes incorrectly in the genkan, not only that I did not spend at least 15 minutes in the shower before entering the onsen ( I mean how could I possibly be clean after only 12 minutes of scrubbing every nook and cranny on my body) that I was now making misleading claims to my surname.
I looked around at the others waiting. All appeared to be Japanese. I began to regret my dishonesty. What could I hope to gain from this venture. I couldn't blame youthful exuberance, I was 42 for goodness sake.
I considered changing my entry or leaving or inserting my real name but it was now too late. The uniformed man was reading the paperwork. He turned and I'm sure looked straight at me.
'Yamagawa-San?' he said. Was their a tone of incredulity as he spoke.
I remained quiet for a second or so hoping by some coincidence another person would answer. Nobody did. I swallowed hard.
'Hai.' I stood and acknowledged the uniformed man.
'That's not our name.' My bi-lingual daughter said. Luckily she said it in English but it was obvious some deceit was occurring. Ooops. I should have pre-warned her. My fraudulant inexperience was showing through.
If the uniformed man spoke English he did not let on. Maybe it gave him an idea to claim to be Mr Smith if ever he went to London.
He lead my daughter and myself through a busy room of people. The crowd carried on with their own personal missions. I was sweating, my mouth dry. This had all gone too far.
We were given some seats and handed more paperwork.
Luckily there were pictures on this form. I ordered a large beer and a steak. There is something about living on the edge that does wonders for your appetite.
The slightly strangely named 'Big Boy Restaurant' near my mother-in-laws.
Why Yamagawa? It literally means mountain river. Two very easy Kanji characters. In Japanese restaurants there is a either a row of seats you queue on. You shuffle along the chairs as you move to the door. Some places, like the aforementioned 'Big Boy' have a list where you enter your name. As each person is called through their name is ticked. My western name causes confusion. I never knew what to write so I thought I would use the two Kanji characters I knew.
