Water views are best contrasted with something: setting sun, big rocks, beaches, skyscrapers, mountains, etc. It is almost always better to look landward, instead of outward, except for sunset. This is why lakes are more beautiful the ocean: there is usually something contrasting.

Lake Union Park gives you a nice vantage point. On this sunny but chilly day, we explore this park the first time. First there is this Center for Wooden Boats, a docking area for many boats. Since we are complete ignorant on this subject, they are quite interesting. There are different styles, sail configuration, and posh levels. Here you can also rent a boat or take a class on sailing.

The sight of all those rich people’s boats is humbling; there are all tourist events soliciting customers. Dog was crazy busy checking out every goose drops in the path. Then we stopped to watch the ducks. They would dive into the water and re-emerge no less than 20 feet away. There are rigs for all kinds of boating activities. Guess that’s what Lake Union is for.

There is a circular pond at roughly the center where people will play toy boats. Most of them are motorized boats of various kinds: tug boats, container boats, yachts, etc. A model sail boat caught my eyes. It is a boat-shaped wood block with two sails. A hand-held remote control works the sails and the rudder. This small boat crisscrossed the water gracefully and easily. The operator was clearly struggling. As we watched and chit-chatted, he even offered me the remote.

I declined. But thought of getting one myself.

“The drizzles do not bother me,” my standard reply when people asked how I like Seattle. “You guys did not tell me it is cold here.” In fact, this newbie to Seattle found the summer bright and pleasant. “Just you wait,” local would say. “Rain will come.”

They were wrong. Snow arrived first.

The first snow came Sunday and lasted only for about half an hour. Monday morning I woke up to a thin blanket of whiteness. The streets were clear and snow accumulates only on tree limbs and shrubs. By mid-afternoon, the sky turn grey and it looked like a thick fog out there. By 10pm, flakes flew horizontally against the street lights. White sands move on the streets as if they are alive. Pretty much all surfaces were covered in inches of powder.

Awesome!

The city is practically paralyzed. Local news reported a pregnant women stranded on the highway for over five hours. She had 23 miles to go at the speed of zero. Spin-outs, flip-overs, and fender-benders were everywhere. Wind blasted the temperature even lower. Some areas lost electricity.

When I walked Dog at night, I donned a beaner hat, wool scarf, trench coat (heavy sweater inside), gloves, and insulated boots. Snow flakes whirled up and stung my face. I twisted my torso against the wind and navigated with memory. Even with traction boots, the footing was slippery. Nasty.

Morning came a glorious day. Bright sun, blue sky with lovely clouds, whiteness coated everything on the ground. Funny how that just lifted my spirit. Since Seattle actually does not even try to clear all roads (“Take the bus,” said the mayor), all schools were closed and most people stay home. The city appeared deserted.

Honestly, this is fun for this city dweller. I am not sure of the snow’s entertainment value if it continues.

Most Californians dread the trip to DMV. Even if you made an appointment, you still enter a long queue. Then you are shuffled from one counter to another, each time just to enter another queue. The people behind the counter are usually, uh, lacking courtesy or the willingness to help. At the end, you ran out of the building mentally exhausted, probably emotionally abused.

So I took a deep breath when I arrived at the county building in Seattle. When I entered the room, I was astonished to find no line what-so-ever. A sign pointed me to a desk. I sat down (!!) in front of this nice lady. She asked some questions, got my paperwork, and started typing to her terminal. We started to ask some questions and actually chit-chatted. When she produced two pieces of paper for us to sign, I asked, “So how long would it be for the plates to arrive at my mailbox?” She gave me a wry smile and handed me the plates, after she applied the registration stickers for me. “Welcome to Washington,” she said.

I allocated 90 minutes for this errand and ended up at work 10 minutes earlier.

Fairness is an opinion frequently disguised with numbers and charts. It is also the most convenient excuse to justify whatever action. I have learned never to enter an argument on whether something is fair or not. No one wins on those debates.

Case in point: taxes. Washington state is considering to tax the very rich. On the surface, the argument seems very straight-forward.

Middle-class families pay more than 11 percent of their income in state and local taxes, and poor families pay 17 percent. Meanwhile the state’s wealthiest residents — like us — pay just 2.6 percent of their income in state and local taxes. That disparity is clearly unfair.

In other words, relative to the income, poor people pay more taxes than rich. That is clearly not fair. The image of few fat rich enslaving the mass populous poor comes to mind. Clearly something must be done to right this wrong.

Wait. Relative to the income, the poor also pay more for foods, transportation, housing, health care, energy, child care, or education. This is simple math: the rich has more and, therefore, everything is relatively less for them. This is the very nature of being rich or poor.

At the heart of fairness is the concept of equality, or sameness. Since individuals are fundamentally unique, there can never be absolute equality for everyone. Fairness, therefore, lays its foundation on two elements: freedom of choice and the transparency of the rules.

The US is a mobile society. Google told me that Alaska has no income or sales taxes. Delaware, Montana, New Hampshire and Oregon have no sales taxes. Florida, Nevada, South Dakota, Texas, Washington, and Wyoming has no income taxes. As long as people have this information and the means to transport themselves, they will end up in the state with acceptable taxation system.

Washington may need the income taxes for its revenue problem. Just say so. Fairness has nothing to do with it.

Late March was a perfect time to move to Seattle. Winter lingered on and summer was lazy to insist. You can feel the seasons changing. One day it would be damp and cold and the next bright and balmy. I found myself grabbing the wind breaker, instead of the winter coat on my way out. They said the winter is not over until July 4th.

Why move? It’s the right size, right timing, and right city for me. Working for a small company is so refreshing. Decision chain is clear and short. No more months of slide deck refinements, socializations, budget allocation, and, worst, political bargaining. I felt the liberation from of the decision making speed and the satisfaction of being impactful. I am, hopefully, at the balance point of maturity and risk tolerance. Lastly, I like a smaller city’s downtown and actually a cooler climate.

The foods landscape here is different. Starbucks defines the minimum quality coffee anywhere in this city. Most places serve intense, flavorful, and near perfectly made coffee. Beers are excellent. Almost all restaurants offer local draft beers and they are all well-made. My recent favorite is Mac and Jack’s, an unfiltered pale ale. It is not so bitter and a bit fruity. Oregonian and Washingtonian wines are good and cheap. A $15 dollar Pinot Noir is at the same quality as $30 in California, at least to this amateur drinker. Of course the seafood are fresh and tasty. Oyster and Salmon are the best and they cook them (or serving them raw) just right. I found steaks boring but burgers great.

I have not ventured out of the Seattle downtown much. For a rainy city, people are extremely active outdoors. There are more runners, bikers, climbers, hikers, yoga, dancing, etc. than anywhere I have ever worked. These are serious exercisers: they train for events and try to win. One of the co-workers is a ultra-marathon runner. He runs 50 miles (in about 8 hours) in weekends.

Everyone who heard that I was from California gave me this wry smile like I am about to go through a hazing process. Seattle’s summer is charming and her winter drives those unfit to northwest away. As someone who arrived in March, I may be fooled into liking this place. “Just you wait,” they were thinking. “And let’s see if I will see you next year.”

OK, we’ll see.

The logo said, “Hand Forged Doughnuts” with a picture of a blacksmith hitting an anvil. Hmm…

A boy sat down next to us. His legs dangled happily, too short for the chair. His cute eyes trained on his dad who eventually came with a glazed one with colorful sprinkles all over the top. The boy held up the doughnut and buried his head into it. A while later, he reached for the milk and smiled at his dad. A few more bites and he handed his dad the half-eaten doughnut. He then put his hands to the face, inhaled, and gave a smile that was so satisfying. Daddy put the doughnut in a bag. They walked out of the door hand-in-hand.

Does it get better than this?

At 9am of this drizzling Saturday (this is Seattle), there were more than a dozen people waiting in line to get their doughnut fix. I bit into my Bavarian Chocolate Filled one and understood. The dough makes the difference. It was light yet with the right texture. The dough must balance the sweetness. It needs to give just enough substance so that it is a doughnut, instead of a piece of cake, bread, or just sugar.

Of course the coffee must be right too. This is Seattle so that’s a safe bet. It was strong and flavorful. With my companion, this makes it a near perfect breakfast.

The best way to come in town is via the Link Light Rail system, if you can drag your luggage through about 600 meters or so paved and sheltered path. That’s less than half a mile.

After you get leave the secure area, you need to find one of the sky bridges across the road to the parking lot. If you have luggage, that will be one level up after getting them. After passing through the sky bridge, look for a sign “Link Light Rail.” It should point left.

There are six sky bridges forming the spokes and the parking lot is the hub. Follow the sign and eventually reach sky bridge number 6.

Then there is this semi-open pathway with a grill-fence on the right. You are close.

When you reach the end, there is another sky bridge like tunnel. Yes, this is the last stop. Well, almost.

Look for the ticketing kiosks. There are four, two on each side. Approach any one of them, touch the screen, and choose a station. For those going to downtown, it should be one of Pioneer Square, University Station, or Westlake. Pay with credit card or whatever ($2.50). There are two escalators, go up.

Most of the time, a train is there. Press the button on the door and it opens. Sometime, there are two trains. If you cannot figure out, there should be someone with a bright yellow jacket around.

It takes about 40 minutes to reach Westlake, the last stop. Most stops in downtown are underground. You can find an elevator or go through the escalator to find the surface. Hopefully, someone is waiting to hug you on the platform already.