3. Discovering Yakima

[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. 

I'm passing the town with my host mom who picked me up from the airport. Host dad was there as well, but for some reason they drive separately, each using one's own car. I know it's not because they avoid each other, so I deduce it must be the sign of the famous reliance on cars of Americans. I assume that each of my host parents has different businesses to take care of in town. They are surely saving time, but I'm not so sure about the gas - and thus money. I don't know how far we are from home, but nevertheless I'm surprised they don't hesitate to use extra fuel.

Before we reach home, I'm taken to couple stores and other places. All I can do is observe and figure out how different it is from what I know. What hits me is the people's behavior. Every single person encountered by us exchanges at least a smile and a "hi, how are you?" Yes, this is the way Americans interact with one another, and I have to admit I like it. They do not go through their businesses impersonally, so to speak, self-focused and avoiding any contact with strangers. No; every action, whether it's doing basic groceries, getting fuel, or filling checks in a bank, is enriched with an interaction with another human being. It's obvious for some and strange for the others, but it's certainly simple. Unfortunately, it's underrated, and it shouldn't be, because it makes life so much more... joyful! This is what I figure out the very first day in the U.S., and this is what I will be constantly admiring for all the months to follow. And, frankly speaking, these simple encounters are what will later change me as a person a lot. 

At the end we pass the high school which I will begin to attend in only two weeks from now. I'm stunned the moment I realize that the huge area I'm seeing and all of the building I can see there all are the school's property. 

There's a big building with a half-round roof; writing on the wall reads "A. C. Davis High School." There's some stadiums right next to it. Then we turn to a small lane and pass one of the few buildings all of which look alike. I watch it carefully and realize than if compressed to the building's dimensions, the entire school I've attended past two years is about the size of just one of five or so buildings belonging to Davis High School. It means that the thing must be huge indeed. I'm not worried whether I will have troubles getting around; at the moment I'm purely excited when I imagine myself being a student and taking the advantage of all conveniences and opportunities that an American high school offers.
We finally drive home

Selah

***

At the beginning it all feels like a holiday. Once I had finally crawled through more or less the whole day of travelling, I find myself in a place that has nothing in common with any other I've ever been to. I am picked up from the airport by strange people who take me to a strange house and introduce me to a strange room, all of which I will have to learn to treat as mine for the ten months to follow.

At the beginning, and for a long time of about a month or so, it's all new and exciting. First few weeks are the time of discovery, and since there's so much to discover and so much to learn, it doesn't get boring quickly. 

It feels like a holiday, because no matter whether I'd wanted it or not, I can finally take a break from everything I've known, both the people, the environment, and the routine. 

I like the new. It brings a unique feeling that some real and actual changes in my life can be finally undertook and applied.

In a world where no one knows who you are - or, rather, who you've been for all your life - you can think of some traits of your own personality you'd like to work on and... change it. It's as simple as it gets! It's hard to even try to be someone else among people who've known you for years, but it's much easier among people you're just introducing yourself to. So take that opportunity.