This was a popular warm-up game I used while teaching my adult intermediate English class in Japan. One person makes three statements and the rest of the class tries to guess which two are true and which one is a lie. I made these three statements to my class about a month ago, during my final days of two years as an English teacher and Coordinator of International Relations in Tsuruta, Japan–Hood River's sister city.

The night I left Tsuruta was hot, humid and very gray. It was a night where the clouds could break at any moment and let the moon shine down on the city, or break down just as fast and soak anyone not carrying an umbrella.

I felt the same inside. Cloudy with mixed emotions — happy to be going home after two years of life in an incredibly different world, and sad to be leaving all the wonderful friends and memories I had tried so hard to make.

I was late getting to the bus station. With the meticulously well-kept Japanese transit system, my bus was leaving at 9 p.m. sharp, with or without me. Two minutes for final goodbyes, surrounded by what had become my family, watching my girlfriend, Megumi, hold back tears from the painful reality that we may never see each other again: Despite my best efforts I contradicted my two truths and a lie, making all three statements I had made in class true. One last kiss, then I was gone.

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The two years I lived in Tsuruta were at times overwhelming and very difficult; at times a bit boring; at times incredibly exciting and at times beautiful and deeply touching. I arrived in shock, knowing almost nothing about the language, customs and culture of the Japanese people, and I left feeling truly comfortable with what had not so long ago been a complete mystery to me.

I was as much a student as I was a teacher in Japan, and after learning, living and loving a life I knew would be impossible to explain to others, packing up and leaving it all behind was very difficult.

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I have learned after moving around so much that most of what I experience I will have to hold inside forever. Photos are nice to show people — some people will listen to stories and try to understand, and a few people will have the perspective to actually relate — but for the most part all of the incredible experiences I have had are now only memories for myself and reminders of why I am who I have become.

The best way I can describe my time in Tsuruta is to say that there is really no way to describe it.

The people there were incredibly kind to me but hardly anyone spoke English; my students were a joy to teach; the weather is unlike any other place in the world (tropical heat in the summer and arctic blizzards in the winter); many houses don't have insulation; driving really is crazy; gas was $7 a gallon;

The food was amazing but the beer wasn't that good; the sake was great; people are very polite except when it comes to smoking indoors and pushing on crowded trains; almost everyone is Buddhist or Shinto but many don't know the difference between the two; the customs of tea ceremony and kimono dressing are too confusing to be understood by almost everyone; bowing etiquette is almost as confusing to foreigners as tea ceremony;

It is considered rude to leave tips; starting on time is extremely important and working late is often expected; many people wear suits and tie even on their days off; Tsuruta gets about 8 feet of snow in winter but people still ride their bikes around town; surfing on the Sea of Japan is best in winter but you have to walk through a foot of snow on the beach to get to the water; kite skiing on the rice fields is excellent as long as the farmers don't catch you …

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Too many interesting little details to fit into 10 Kaleidoscopes. And yes, I did drive my van into the ocean and get attacked by a pack of wild dogs while riding through the jungle.

Good times!