[August 2015]
Yakima Valley. A piece of land surrounded by hills spread and high enough to isolate it from the more friendly climate of the Pacific Coast. What I mean by friendly is basically cooler and more humid, for this is what I'm longing to once I find myself in Yakima. This part of the state is pretty much a desert, with the air being hot and dry and the sky cloudless. The only green patches of land are the lawns of people's properties that are being hydrated by water sprinklers.
I feel as if I found myself in some sort of a movie, though I can't really say what kind of movie it would be. It's neither a western, nor an American comedy, but something makes the town feel very American even though I've never had a chance before to shape my view on what 'American' actually means. Or had I? After all, I'd read couple books before I came over, and I had explored the neighborhood in Google View, so I sort of knew what to expect.
From what I see, there is only houses; I don't see any blocks of apartments. Buildings are all spread out, making the city feel really flat, especially due to brown hills surrounding it all the way around. There's also this specific feeling of space. However, I dislike the high-voltage lines dangling messily low above the streets. Something about them makes a rather depressing impression.
It's hard to spot a property or a public place, such as school, restaurant, or even a store, that wouldn't have an American flag hanging from above its entrance or waving on a high mast. Something tilts in my heart, for I finally know for sure that I am in the United States indeed. Apart from Star-Spangled Banner, there's some other flags which I don't recognize. I am yet to.