The Panama Jetski Hunt |
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| Written by Matt |
| Thursday, 17 September 2009 07:51 |
 As a kid, jetskis were always a forbidden fruit. My brother and I categorized them along with video game systems and sugar coated cereals as things that we were never allowed to have and thus things we discriminated against religiously. During summers at the beach, I'd see pickup trucks with jetskis in tote and say to myself, gee that's just so...tacky. Owners of jetskis were the same people who owned chicken coops and guns. I figured if I wasn't permitted to enjoy things like jetskis, I'd sure as hell do my best to make those who could feel uncomfortable. "Heard one of those things took off a kids arm down in Love Ladies last summer," I remember saying to this kid on the beach. "Pureed his hand into a bloody pulp. And blood in the water attracts sharks." I was like ten at the time.Â
A friend offered to pay for a one-hour jetski session in Mexico and after deliberating, I accepted, demanding that if anything happened he'd be personally responsible for telling my mother. Once on the machine, I tested the engine cautiously, like a blind person with temporary vision: slow throttle spurts, cautious turns. I wanted the jetski experience to suck, I really did. I wanted to finish and think to myself that as deprived children of the corn, weren't missing all that much. But we were. Oh we were. It was amazing. Riding a jetski was the single most empowering thing I'd done since destroying a TV set with a baseball bat. We motored in and out of coves, around deserted beaches and under waterfalls. We slalomed through wakes and threw caution to the passing nautical wind. It would not be unfair to say that, in 2008, the jetski was one of my highest highs. It took me twenty-six and a half years to discover the joy of the jetski, but when proverbial rain came, it poured. After that ride, I was hooked. I was obsessed with the jetski, captivated by the jetski. Everywhere we went, I investigated into whether they had jetskis and if not, did anyone have a generous friend with one. I was watching this news clip of a terrible flood that overran the streets of rural Thailand and this woman stood waving her boney arms atop the hood of a drowning home. I mention this because I remember thinking to myself not, my gosh, someone's got to help her but rather man, those look like ideal conditions for a jetski. It is not surprising then, that when I got to Panama, I began furiously - like I was in search of a kidney donor - to hunt one down. Phone calls, Google searches, deep and uninterrupted prayer. In Boca Chica, I was told by several of its protectionist residents that, if I ever did bring a jetski to the area, I'd be shot. In Pedasi, farmers thought I was asking about a girl - a girl named Jessky. And on the Caribbean coast, I finally narrowed down one person, the owner of a dive shop, who owned one jetski he was willing rent. I'd read endlessly about riding jetskis alone and decided if there weren't two for rent, I wasn't going. In Casco Viejo, a Kuna Indian told me he had a jetski and brought out (miscommunicatively) a puka shell necklace for sale, only $5. A wealthy friend "knew a guy" with a jetski, "but he died over a year ago." I wanted to ask what the family had done with the jetski, but the theme was clear. Jetskis in Panama are more elusive than the quetzal. {adsense} I was sulking with disappointment when I realized Panama's lack of jetskis isn't all that surprising. It's not Cancun or Cannes. Tourism hasn't yet given way to things like tattoo parlors or corny souvenir t-shirts. I was pissed until I realized that these are the very things most people come to Panama to escape. These are the things (or lack thereof) that make Panama so great. I still wanted worriedly to ride a jetski sometime very soon but if it meant sidestepping the tacky tourism tumor that Panama's trying desperately to avoid, that, I figured would be OK too. I could just as easily find my way to Myrtle Beach where jetski rentals come packaged alongside coupons for unlimited crab-leg buffets. For the first time in my life, I had no problem associating with the jetski crowd: I was just glad I didn't live anywhere near them. Trackback(0)
Comments (7)
  written by RK , September 18, 2009 There is a shop in clayton, or corozal, that sells (and maybe even rents) jet skis. I have seen them myself.
You should ask around better. report abuse
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 written by flanchee , September 22, 2009 I was reading your post, mentally tallying all the reasons why it's GOOD that Panama, and Boca Chica in particular, aren't covered with jet ski rentals and other tourist-y clutter.
I was so glad that you came to the very conclusion I was going to shrilly scream at you in all CAPS!  Good for you. Good for us. There are still unspoiled little pieces of paradise. report abuse
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 written by Bart Galambos , October 06, 2009 Hi,
you can rent Jet Ski in Gamboa, but there are crocs in the fresh water! Bart report abuse
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 written by La Mer , December 07, 2009 I agree that the jetski experience is wonderful for those riding the noisy machines but for those left nearby in the water it's a really bad one!
When I visited Panama I was impressed with its unspoilled nature, its almost empty beaches and the laid back attitude of the local crowd. Incidentally, these were also areas of potential frustration: two cars parked on the beach, trash left behind, broken showers, etc. Panama will never become Nice or Monaco or Barcelona, not even Pataya-Thailand (100 jetsjis per sq.m)...but it can become a better Panama, a cleaner, affordable, safer Panama. I would happily trade the jetski for a local fisherman's boat or a pirogue or something... report abuse
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 written by Flaco , December 08, 2009 Ahhhhh you said it. One of the biggest reasons why I have a love/hate relationship with my country.
 Such a beautiful place but people that live there don't understand what a jewel they have. I hope this is something that can change over time.
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I can relate to your total experience.
There's nothing like the adrenaline pump of gliding on top of the water at high speed with your favorite girl in tow... what a RUSH!
When we need our jetski fix, we can run to Lake Havasu or Cancun, right? Let's leave Panama "tranquilo" for now.