I lived on the island of Okinawa until I was sixteen years of age and the Lovely Mona swears that I am Japanese deep inside. I'll share a story with you (like you could stop me!): When I was a Purchasing Agent for Watkins-Johnson Company in Scotts Valley, California, waaaaaay back in the late 1980's and early 1990's, I was asked to speak with a vendor in Japan on the telephone. My nihon-go was still pretty good in those days (it has since been supplanted by español; I am unable to keep more than two and a half languages in my bald head at a time. I still understand nihon-go, but I respond en español. But I digress. . .). So I had a nice conversation with our vendor in Japan and straightened everything out. When I hung up the telephone and started to walk out of the office, my boss asked, "What was going on there?" I asked him what he meant and he said, "You were bowing like crazy! That guy couldn't see you, you know!"
A well mannered young man ALWAYS bows when in a Japanese context, while an ill-mannered person vomits on the shoes of the Japanese Prime Minister. That's just the way it goes. . .