I’d like to open a new-name account please. (Or, how The Gunma Bank changed my name.)

Ah, the lovely life of a foreigner. I must say, my admiration for people who migrate/immigrate to a new country increases exponentially daily. Here’s this week’s trial for you.

In Japan, names are very different. They sound different. Perhaps that’s obvious, but it makes it hard to remember people’s names if you’re also trying to remember a whole slew of new names too. They look different. Japanese names are written in kanji characters. As a foreigner, my name is written only in katakana, an alphabet strictly reserved for foreign words. And, they’re just plain written differently. Your family name goes first, given name second. And middle name? My advice is forget about it and do your utmost to remove your middle name from any official documents before you arrive in Nihon.

I have a middle name. Or, I had a middle name. My parents, in a moment of absolute humour and love, not faith, gave me the middle name Ruth (we can save that story for another day.) Odelia Ruth Bay. Three names, in that order. Not a bad ring to it either.

In Japan, Odelia Ruth Bay doesn’t really work all that well. Usually, I’m Bay Odelia Ruth. I make a practice of always asking how it should be written each time I fill in a form of some kind.

A few days after my arrival in Ota, I made the requisite visit to The Gunma Bank to open a Japanese bank account, an absolute essential for life here. As usual, I asked how they wanted me to write my name in English. The teller asked that it be last name first, first name second, and middle name last. I handed her a piece of paper that said, “Bay Odelia Ruth.” What I got back was a bankbook that had printed on it, “BAY ODELIARUTH.” Through the patient interpretation of my supervisor I explain that no, in fact Odelia and Ruth are two separate names. She explains that it’s okay and not to worry, that the bank’s computer system simply allows for only one space. Okay, can’t argue with that.

(Insert music and fade effects here to denote passage of time.)

On Tuesday, I get an urgent message from the managers of my apartment complex. They will be unable to withdraw the rent from my bank account because the name they have on file for me (Odelia Ruth Bay) doesn’t at all match what’s on file with the bank. I urgently need to fill out new paperwork and I will have to pay a transfer penalty to cover my rent. The woman from the company arrives at my school that afternoon. I don’t have my bankbook with me and so we fill in a stack of forms with my name written FOUR different ways to try and ensure that something will match what the bank has on file. Yes, every detail counts, even the use of only uppercase letters.

I am informed that from now on, for the purpose of ensuring that my finances are in order, I should fill out any monetary related forms as BAY ODELIARUTH. Try saying that 10 times fast. And so, the bank has officially renamed me.

It’s not the first time my name has been changed crossing borders, linguistic, geographic or political. I’m told it wasn’t always Bay…