WATER WORLD; LAS VEGAS OFFERING VISITORS AN ENTIRELY NEW WAY TO GET SOAKED.

Byline: Story and photos by Eric Noland Travel Editor

The reef shark, about a 24-incher, turned lazy circles around the clump of coral. A sand castle was taking shape at water's edge, although one turret fell victim to a clumsy lady carrying an umbrella drink. A girl squealed as the inner tube she was riding in rounded a curve in the lagoon and passed beneath a waterfall.

Just another day in the northern center of the Mojave Desert.

Las Vegas has become quite the master of illusion. Or suspended reality. In one two-mile length of the Strip, your senses are assaulted by a pyramid, a medieval castle, the New York skyline, ancient Rome, a northern Italian village, a pirate ship and, soon, a tight cluster of Parisian landmarks.

Anything goes, it seems, in the effort to convince you you're anywhere but . . . well, here.

And now comes water. Gallons and gallons and gallons of it.

The Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino recently opened at the extreme south end of the Strip. The theme is forbidden tropics - Disneyland Jungle Cruise meets ``Some Enchanted Evening.'' That shark swims in a fish tank in the lobby. The sandy beach adjoins a vast concrete pool, where waves will break once they get the drains fixed. The waterfall cascades into another pool that is vaguely configured as a tropical stream.

But Las Vegas' new-found fixation with water doesn't end here. A few blocks up the Strip, on the site of the old Sands, the Venetian continues to stagger through its multiphased opening. Newest element to be unveiled: a quarter-mile canal that will wind through a movie set of Venice facades. Part of the retail complex was due to open this weekend; the hotel is hoping to have the remainder up and running by the July 4 weekend.

And outside the city, in nearby Henderson, Nev., a Hyatt Regency Resort is being built on the shores of man-made Lake Las Vegas, a 320-acre pond that is already bordered by luxury homes and a Jack Nicklaus-designed golf course. Guests of this hotel will be able to windsurf and fish in the lake, careen down a water slide and frolic in a lagoon off a sandy beach of their own.

Much has been made in recent months about the upscaling of Las Vegas: restaurants featuring celebrity chefs, elegant hotel accommodations and top-end entertainment that transcends the requisite lounge lizard singing ``Misty'' in white vinyl shoes.

Another trend seems to be developing here, however. It's a direct targeting of the resort traveler. The reasoning: Why should Palm Springs and Scottsdale, Ariz., be conceded resort business without a fight? In this land of blistering desert sun and open-arms tax policies, why not throw up spacious spas, expansive golf courses . . . and lots and lots of pools?

The Mandalay Bay property might embody the concept. Yes, it has a casino - a big, clamorous one with acres of green felt and armies of cocktail waitresses not wearing much.

But it also has a 2,000-seat House of Blues, a 1,700-seat theater currently showing the Broadway musical ``Chicago,'' and a 12,000-seat events center that recently played host to boxer Oscar De La Hoya's latest victory.

Its adjoining food-and-booze court has the kind of trendy, gimmicky establishments that baby boomers tend to froth over.

In the Aureole restaurant, there is a four-story wine rack, and young women in harnesses dangle alongside it to retrieve diners' exotic selections.

In the China Grill's Cafe and Zen Sum, a conveyor belt continually carries appetizers along the inside rim of the backlit bar. See something you like, just grab it; the bartender will make sure it gets on your bill.

In Rumjungle, a throbbing nightspot with soaring flames and tumbling sheets of water, the menu features more than 100 varieties of rum.

In Red Square, there are just as many kinds of vodka, and several of them are kept in a sub-zero, see-through locker.

And then there's that playground outside. It features five pools and 2.2 million gallons of water (including the private pool of the adjacent Four Seasons). The largest is designed to feature 3-foot waves, but a major problem with the drainage system caused the pool to be shut down and drained for repair work just weeks after the hotel's opening.

An expansive ``beach'' of trucked-in sand lies at the foot of the pool, and sunscreen-slathered guests walk around bearing fruity tropical drinks as if they've fooled themselves into thinking they're in . . . .

``We were looking for that Maui feeling right here in the desert,'' said Mandalay Bay general manager Michael Starr. ``It's conceptualized,'' he added, ``from Wailea, on Maui - that ocean walk from the Renaissance to the Grand Wailea, the Four Seasons and the Kea Lani.'' (Starr left out the Aston Wailea, but you get the idea.) ``We're trying to create that ambience where you're going from the hotel right to the beach.''

Nearby is a 30,000-square-foot spa, where a 55-minute Swedish massage ($85) might relieve some of the sting of any casino losses.

So far, the hotel's guests seem to be embracing the beach experience eagerly.

This facility would be a prime candidate for pool-crashing by non-guests, so everyone is funneled through a narrow kiosk, where towel boys check room keys. Most people head straight for the sand, where chaise lounges await. Misting units cool the scene from overhead and canned music (everything from Ventures-era surf rock to Jimmy Buffett to rap) emanates mysteriously from fake rocks that dot the scene.

There is actually a sign here that reads, ``Capacity: 3,327.'' Pity the towel boy saddled with the responsibility of keeping that count. It also provides a clue as to the difficulty of getting beachside cocktail service. Many beach bums head into the centrally located bar and grill to fetch their own drinks, where they discover prices in keeping with the Maui resort theme (mai tai, $6.75).

There are other, more-conventional pools in the complex, plus that river. It makes a 200-yard circle, and angled jets along the side of the pool produce a gentle current - about the pace of a Los Angeles flood-control channel after a light drizzle. Just to keep things interesting, the current will carry your inner tube beneath two substantial waterfalls.

There is yet another area that clearly isn't for everyone. Bungalows back up to a serene pool area that has its own whirlpool - all of this behind a sturdy wall that has only one gate. When I called to see what they rented for, the person in VIP services asked, ``What's your room number?'' Uh oh. After being on hold for a few moments, I was told that the hotel doesn't rent out the bungalows but instead ``provides them to our casino guests.''

There was one notable incongruity in this lush, tropical complex. Every few minutes, a security guard wearing shorts, CHP-issue sunglasses and a stern expression would pedal a bicycle along the edge of the wave pool, scanning the beach and pretending he wasn't just scoping out thong bikinis. The guy was packing a sidearm. Probably looking for the fellow who designed the wave pool's original drainage system.

Standard rooms at the Mandalay Bay are nicely appointed, but the rate scale slides as precipitously as one of those waterfalls. When I asked for a rate sheet at the front desk, a clerk instead handed me an 800 reservations number and said, ``They can vary from $99 to $399 depending on when you book and the demand.''

Water has begun to flow nearly as freely just up the street, where Sheldon Adelson has attempted to create Venice, Italy, on the site where the Rat Pack used to cavort in the Sands, a hotel with a desert-oasis theme.

After tiring of delaying the hotel's debut, officials finally opted to open in early May with what they had ready: hotel rooms and a casino. (The latter facility could at least be counted on to generate cash flow to cover construction bills.) Two weeks later, workmen were still crawling over and through the shops, restaurants and 236,000-gallon canal on the second level, trying to get that feature ready. It is still weeks away from being fully open.

It's all quite a feat of engineering. The canal and its complex sit on top of the casino. Above the canal and shops is a blue, movie-set sky, and above that ceiling is the pool, spa and sunbathing deck for guests of the hotel.

Gondola rides along the canal's quarter-mile length will include a song, but they won't be had for one: They're $5 per person. Hotel spokesman Ryan Brooks noted that the nationwide search for gondoliers was a bit complicated. ``They had to be able to sing in Italian, steer a boat and know CPR, in case anyone fell in.''

While conducting a recent hard-hat tour, Brooks pointed out the restaurant that would be the only one to offer canal-side dining, an obvious bid to capture the essence of Venice. Uh, it's a Southwest-themed establishment, Canonita Taqueria. A peek inside revealed a couple of saguaro cactus plants in pots.

So much for illusion.

CAPTION(S):

5 Photos

Photo: (1--Color) The Lazy River is part of the 11-acre water park at Las Vegas' Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino. A gentle current propels tubers along its course, and cascading waterfalls await the unsuspecting.

(2--Color) A broad canal fronts the new Venetian. You can't ride a gondola here, though. That canal is indoors. Upstairs.

(3) Some of the fountains in the Mandalay Bay's water park are vaguely reminiscent of Disneyland's Jungle Cruise.

(4) Shops and restaurants are presented in a mock-up of Venice at the new Venetian Resort in Las Vegas. Gondoliers will ply the canal serenading their passengers.

(5) A day at the beach? No, but a reasonable facsimile. It's the 1.6-million-gallon wave pool at the Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino in Las Vegas, part of the hotel's water park.

Eric Noland