JAPAN - No tattoos, no g-strings, no jewellery, no smoking, and definitely no splashing. But you must wear a hat.
Entry requirements for a peculiar Tokyo nightclub? No, it's the local swimming pool where rules are supreme and the etiquette extends well beyond anything Emily Post ever considered.
For an average lap swimmer for whom going for a swim in New Zealand once meant chucking on a pair of bathers, slipping on a pair of thongs, trundling down the road and simply diving into the neighbourhood pool, swimming in downtown Tokyo throws up all manner of surprises.
The fun starts even before you've stepped foot inside the pool area.
First you must successfully negotiate a vending machine (swimming could well be the only thing that's cheaper in Japan, with pool entry fees averaging about $2.80).
You then hand over the vending machine ticket to an attendant, who gives you a locker key and guides you towards the pink or the blue changing room, depending on gender.
It's here that shoes become an issue.
All poolgoers must remove them, place the filth-ridden footwear in a plastic bag (provided) so as not to soil the pristine locker room that is often festooned with signs warning of the vigour that swimming requires and the importance of stretching beforehand.
Sometimes you find a blood pressure reading machine (free) that presumably gives prospective swimmers an indication of whether they're up for a lap or two - or could be better off with a cup of tea and a lie-down.
Once clothes, jewels, bags, and towel have been safely locked away, you get a wristband into which your key has been neatly stashed and, with swimming cap and goggles in hand, it's off to the Hazmat-style shower corridor from which there is no escape.
High-pressure warm water will be blasted at you from all directions, and yet another sign will inform you that pool entry requires that you subject yourself to this for at least 20 seconds, and in this dazed state you will emerge super-clean and pool-ready.
Japanese motorists and pedestrians stick to the left but pool rules insist swimmers navigate each lane in an anti-clockwise direction, although if you're over 70 years old and prefer to walk very slowly in the water it seems that you are allowed an entire lane.
Donning suitable bathing attire, a swimming cap and sticking to the right, a lap swimmer should be able to get on with enjoying the water.
But no: beware the Rest Period. For the uninitiated, this is a time with the potential to cause maximum embarrassment as well as subject oneself to the intense derision of lifeguards and fellow swimmers.
Once every hour, public pools in Japan order everyone out of the water in a military-style effort that involves whistles, shouts and much talk over a loudspeaker in which patrons are reminded once again of all the rules.
The Rest Period lasts between five and 10 minutes and its purpose is to protect swimmers from over-exerting themselves - something they couldn't possibly determine themselves.
While swimmers twiddle their thumbs poolside, lifeguards sweep the pool for soggy band-aids and drowned toddlers and, having determined that there aren't any, perform a mystic set of arm actions that presumably means it's all clear.
Having been caught out by the Rest Period before in a shameful incident that involved a lifeguard throwing himself into the water to block my path - with an estimated 150 onlookers giggling at the ignorant gaijin, I recently asked a pool attendant why it is deemed necessary.
"The first reason is for safety and the second reason is to rest your body," explains Yoyogi National Stadium lifeguard Mami Tanaka, herself the subject of a few good-natured tussles with gaijin.
"They want to know why do they have to rest - the way of thinking is a bit different," says Tanaka, clutching the yellow plastic cone carried by all lifeguards that apparently helps them to admonish wayward swimmers as well as raise the alarm when something does actually go wrong.
But it is not only the swimmers who require a rest, with some Tokyo pools shutting down for lengthy periods during the day, opening their gates only for four two-hour sessions. It makes timing one's swim somewhat tricky, particularly when you can't read the sign out the front.
Post-swim, you'd do well to obey the rule that instructs all patrons to wash out their eyes in specially designed poolside eye baths, and you'll need to sneak soap, shampoo, and conditioner (all forbidden) into the locker room showers.
And under no circumstances should you put those germ-filled shoes back on until you are well and truly clear of the wet area.
That's swimming - the Japanese way - and it makes one wonder that with all that resting how it is that this nation managed to bag 12 medals at the last World Swimming Championships.
Playing by pool rules
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