Impressions of Seattle
When I first arrived in Seattle, it felt unremarkable—unremarkable in a way that reminded me of my hometown. Under the gray, overcast sky, the roads silently divided the city into a series of small, neat grids, and even the dogs out for a stroll were unusually quiet, hardly barking. The rain seemed endless, and on the streets, hardly anyone bothered with umbrellas, letting the raindrops soak their outerwear. Aside from that, there wasn’t much in this city that truly caught my attention.
Flowers, birds, and dogs were the first things that UW (the University of Washington) left me with.
The day I arrived at UW, the sky was dim, and the air was fresh with the sweetness of rain. In front of the library, I found myself lost in a sea of cherry blossom trees. Before this, I had never realized how tall cherry trees could grow. The clusters of flowers on the branches seemed to carefully wipe away the sweat from the sky, creating a soft pink veil. Beneath them, visitors strolled leisurely, rainwater mingling with the pollen, soaking into their collars. The fountains on campus sprayed water high into the air, their droplets shimmering against the gray sky. Standing in the distance, I captured this scene on my phone—my first photograph at UW, taken during the spring semester. As I ventured deeper into the campus, I saw students, like me, with backpacks—some riding skateboards, others on rollerblades, and some with dogs tugging at leashes, sprinting ahead on skateboards. The concept of spring, along with the cherry blossoms, flying birds, gentle rain, and passing pedestrians, grew and flourished all around me.
It’s a twenty-minute walk from the dormitory to the department building, and along the way, I pass grassy lawns where Canadian geese forage, fountains where mallards and mandarin ducks glide, and the ever-present crows. Unlike the crows back at Tsinghua, which only circle above the dorms or occasionally drop their small “gifts” on the lucky ones below, the crows here seem unafraid of humans. They often gather in groups right at our feet, as if going about their business without a care. The only place I’ve seen crows circling overhead is inside the Allen Library’s atrium, where black bird models hang from the ceiling. I’ve heard that crows symbolize intelligence, or perhaps they are simply making a more straightforward statement: the world of knowledge is boundless, free like the birds themselves.
The love for dogs, particularly Huskies, is especially prominent here at UW. After seeing the proud Husky statue outside the student activities building, it becomes clear that encountering dogs while walking through the park, studying in the library, or shopping in the mall is entirely ordinary. UW does not hide its affection for this mascot—the souvenir stores are brimming with Husky-themed items. Campus cards aren’t called “ID Cards,” but “Husky Cards,” and you need to show your “dog tag” to enter the library. Everywhere you go, you’ll find large signs that say “Washington Husky” near every stadium, and if you stand on the open lawn, you can almost hear the thunderous cheers for the Husky team on game days. Even in the restrooms, there’s a sign that says, “Stay Healthy, Huskies!” with a playful dog’s face. The Husky, symbolizing courage, energy, and loyalty, might seem more at home in an anime or novel than in a university setting, yet it fits perfectly at UW, where it flows seamlessly through the campus like a fish in water.
Before I even had a chance to immerse my thoughts and intellect in this world, it had already captured my heart—just like the cherry blossoms in the rain, the birds at my feet, and the ever-glowing Huskies.
