The other day I felt pretty good about being kicked out of the community pool. It wasn’t my first time, either. Maybe the first time to feel good about it, yet not the first time to be kicked out. That was my fourth.

The first time was years ago, at a pool in Meguro. It was for keeping my glasses on. I was not happy then. I can’t see much without them, and I wanted to at least be able to identify family members more than an arm’s length away. It being a community pool, I also wanted to be able to recognize members of our actual neighborhood so I could sufficiently smile and nod at them. I was new in town and very dedicated to becoming a fully integrated member of my new community.

Little did I know it’d take much more than pleasantries to just become a proper member of the community pool.

How not to kill your fellow swimmers

As an occasional writer of crime fiction, I am aware of all the different ways you can theoretically murder someone with a pair of glasses. Outside of fiction, however, I have yet to come across a single such story about somebody being killed, or badly wounded, or even slightly inconvenienced, by someone else’s eyewear. It dawned on me that pool rules in Japan might be a bit stricter than in my home country of Germany, where they basically only draw the line at knives and guns. The local rules also might be enforced more strictly and require active study instead of just relying on intuition.

The second time I got kicked out, I found the reasoning more acceptable. It was for a digital camera I brought to document my young daughter’s first joyful swim. My mistake in hindsight; I actually understand why you don’t want to have electronic devices near water.

Demonstrating my Homer Simpson-esque learning curve, the third time was for the same offense, if not the same device. I had gone to the pool on my own with an e-reader to entertain myself during the mandatory swimming breaks (more on that later). It was one of those devices that use so little electricity you forget they actually are electronic. If you fancy yourself the villain in a crime drama and nonchalantly drop an e-reader into your enemy’s bathtub, the only thing you’re likely to kill is the e-reader. I made a mental note to bring a proper book next time and used the breaks to squint at other guests to determine whether I knew them or not.

Swimming undercover

When I visited another pool recently, I felt like a hardened veteran. Shoes off, glasses off, trunks on, leave everything behind but your towel (I watched others to confirm towels are OK), a quick shower, and I was in the pool, semi-seriously swimming in the fun section like the pool pro I thought I was.

When I reached the other end, however, a young man came to the edge and kneeled to have a conversation. His red shirt said “lifeguard” in white letters big enough for me to read without glasses. He asked me if I had brought my swimming cap.

I am not sure I have ever owned one of those in my life. Still, in this particular pool, I needed one. It was not our usual community pool in Meguro but one in the shiny upscale business district of Tamachi. It was an indoor affair, so this cap rule might be an indoor thing — at least according to speculations of the three native Japanese adults accompanying me who also hadn’t been aware of the regulation (yet they’d all brought caps anyway).

This lifeguard had likely never seen a non-Japanese rule breaker comply so quickly. I mumbled an apology, exited the water and headed straight back to the changing room — and not even in a huff. The ¥800 entrance fee might seem steep for about two minutes in the water, but I had to abort my original mission anyway. I was there undercover to spy on my daughter’s first private swimming lesson. I meant to casually check out the teacher’s conduct and monitor my girl’s level of enjoyment.

It was no use. I couldn’t even find them without my glasses on.

The reason this fourth rejection made me feel relatively good was the implication that there is something on top of my head that needs to be kept under control by a cap: I am pretty bald. I do what any balding Western man does: shave the remaining hair into near non-existence to pass it off as a deliberate “cool bald” look (our Japanese brethren in baldness still seem to prefer the nostalgic charms of the classic comb-over).

All the rules I haven’t broken

When visiting a swimming pool in Japan, there are rules you should consider before going and some you will get the hang of while splashing away. First, you must take off your shoes before entering the changing room — sometimes way before. That’s not difficult to figure out unless you’re habitually oblivious to the people around you. You’re well-advised to carry small change with you, as you might need it for the ticket vending machine and your coin locker (that ¥100 is redeemable). Japan’s low crime rate notwithstanding, theft from unlocked lockers at public pools is not unheard of.

As in most places frequented by half-naked people, you’ll have to cover your tattoos. Showering before you enter the pool is not just international common sense but also a Japanese pool rule.

Pools are segregated into sections for serious swimmers and those who just want to have fun. Choose wisely. If you are going for the serious section, make sure you are swimming in the right direction (lanes are one-way), and don’t hold up the other serious swimmers. Some pools have a third section for patrons who just like to walk slowly in the water. Join them if you want to feel a little silly.

And yes, when the guards call for a break and the intermission music starts, you have to head for dry land. If you don’t get those signals, follow your fellow swimmers: Remember, if everybody else is leaving the water, so should you. Those breaks are for relaxation and pool cleaning (the latter is, surprisingly, not your responsibility), and they vary from pool to pool between five and 15 minutes. Uninterrupted swimming times can last between 30 minutes to a full hour.

Some pool rules you hear about can be considered myths, or at least questionable generalizations based on circumstantial evidence, (like the requirement for conservative swimwear or the ban on floats and other fun gear). Like the swimming cap rule, these might be handled differently by different facilities and should be checked beforehand. Of course, whatever the rule, you should always keep your giant inflatable shark out of the serious swimming lane. And when choosing attire, it never hurts to ask yourself: Am I going to a friendly neighborhood community pool or a 1990s hip-hop music video shoot?

I think I have learned all the pool rules by now. On the other hand, I already thought that after the first of my four offenses. Maybe there is something they haven’t pinned on me yet. Except for my head, I’m a rather hairy guy. I’m not proud of it but, nature being nature, I’m also not overly ashamed. Will I be asked to wear a full-body swimsuit soon? I can’t wait to find out.

Andreas Neuenkirchen is a German novelist and essayist based in Tokyo.