Everything I cherish about Seattle is born out of water. Sandwiched between the Puget Sound's Elliott Bay, Lake Union, and Lake Washington, Seattle is a nature lover's paradise with over 70 parks and countless surrounding islands, forests, and mountains. However, Seattle is equally famous for its ever-increasing urban sites. Even though it doesn't get as much rain in inches as New York or Washington, D.C., it has been cursed with a reputation for constant drizzle. Those in Seattle have developed a sort of proud fondness for it. Heck, they've even named one of their greatest festivals after an umbrella. Bumbershoot has brought together international and local musicians, artists, literati, and vendors of everything from Pad Thai noodles to bookmarks for the past 30 years. One can only begin to imagine the magic of a festival where Mel Tormé once opened up for The Ramones.

Seattle hasn't yet figured out if it wants to be a quaint Pacific Northwest town or a cosmopolitan city. The population of a little over half a million will argue that it's both, and after a few days, you realize it's true. Seattle residents show up in droves to the European-feeling Gallery Walk in Pioneer Square the first Thursday evening of every month, meandering through art galleries, viewing local artists' work, and nibbling hors d'oeuvres. The next weekend these same folks might find themselves at a family picnic in Gasworks Park on Lake Union. Where else but Seattle can you watch a classic movie in the ballroom of a 1935 art deco ferry, attend one of Seattle's almost weekly summer festivals, or go on an island day trip, all within one weekend?

Seattle does have an undeserved bad rep for its weather--undeserved since it's only fall and winter that are wet. True, the northern latitude means Seattle drivers have to turn on their headlights at a depressing 3pm in December, but that just makes summer, averaging a vacation-perfect 75° F and a manageable five or six days of rain a month, that much more appealing.

I headed to Seattle to be one of the first to witness the astounding Experience Music Project, Seattle's interactive American music museum that opened June 23, 2000. However, as always, the rest of my vacation was influenced by water. I ate at Seattle's famous seafood restaurants: heavenly local coho salmon at Flying Fish one night and sinful smoked salmon ravioli in lemon cream sauce at the Tulio's at the Vintage Park Hotel the next. Kayaking and a trip to the Ballard Locks took up two whole days. And yes, it did rain, but an escape into downtown's GameWorks (Steven Spielberg's mega-video arcade) allowed me to continue with my water theme without actually getting wet: here you can actually go virtual water skiing.

Although we hadn't let rain stop us before from kayaking, my brother and I waited for sun this time to head to the Northwest Outdoor Center on Lake Union. Thirty seconds of instruction and life vests were all we needed for our kayak adventure. Once out on the water, a burst of energy took us across the lake to the MV Kalakala, the aforementioned art deco ferry. We ventured underneath this historic streamlined vessel--which looks a whole lot bigger from three feet above water than it did from two miles away--to an old water jug dangling on the end of a rope announcing "Kayak donations" in a thick scribble. I was inspired to burrow under my life vest for a dollar not only to support the restoration process, but also for the novelty of giving the only paddle-up donation I would probably ever contribute in my lifetime.

A Seattle treat tailor-made for kayakers is a trip through the eclectic houseboat community of Lake Union, where Tom Hanks lived in Sleepless in Seattle. We took an aquatic stroll through the "streets" of this most unusual neighborhood. I daydreamed about life aboard one with a hot tub and kayaks attached to the side. We slowly paddled in and out of the channels, unaware of the imminent danger lurking ahead. Soon, it was too late to turn back. Icebergs, the size of... oh, say, ice cubes from a gin and tonic started bobbing up and down in the water before us. It wasn't exactly a Titanic-sized problem, rather a houseboat owner in shorts and flip-flops tossing ice cubes from his plastic cup in front of our kayak. "Iceberg, dead ahead!" he alerted as he threw the icy boulders in our path. Luck was with us as we were able to muster up the courage to veer around these behemoths of the modern freezer. We paddled back to the much safer waters of Lake Union, where seaplanes flew in and out not too far above our heads and speedboats provided wakes in which to surf.

Deciding there and then to take a car rather than a kayak, the next day we drove out to the Hiram Chittenden Locks in the Scandinavian neighborhood of Ballard. The Ballard Locks, as locals know them, are just past the artistically inclined neighborhood of Fremont, where a giant troll eats a VW Beetle under the north end of the Aurora Avenue Bridge. As vessels traverse from the salt water of the Puget Sound to the fresh water of Lake Washington or Lake Union, we sat back and enviously eyed the yachts and sailboats on a pleasant--dare I say hot?--summer day. It looked like a miniature Panama Canal, sans dictator. As boats enter from open upper gates, gravity drains water through underground valves. Once water pressure is equal on both sides of a large metal gate, it opens, allowing boats to pass through easily and avoid what would have been a most unpleasant ten-foot drop-off. To boot, the Ballard Locks also offer a man-made salmon fish ladder you can view from above or below the waterline, as well as a botanical garden.

This vacation didn't leave me enough time to explore the San Juan Islands or visit the temperate rain forests of the Olympic Peninsula. But Seattle is the kind of place you return to again and again, so there's always next year. Or the year after that. Or the year after...•