Imagine you blew up a contemporary glass, concrete, steel building. Then imagine you stacked the rubble and painted the roof fragments in the kinds of bright primary colors you find in a kindergartener’s crayon box. Then you would have some idea how the BioMuseo in Panama City looks from the outside.

The building was designed by Frank Gehry. It’s the real star exhibit of the museum. It has a jaunty, child-like look. It’s dramatic and pleasing to the eye.

The building houses a didactic museum — it’s intended to teach you something. What is has to teach (the importance of biodiversity) is vital to know. The experience of walking through the museum is like walking through a book. You learn a lot as you go through the pages.

The museum’s book-like method of delivering information, though, is its chief weakness. So much of what it has to teach is rendered in words, not exhibits, objects, hands-on displays, or even interesting photos. This is, in effect, a natural history museum, and so I compare it against the best of that genre. And by that measure, it comes up short.

Yes, there are fossils and bones. There is a cool ten-minute video presentation on screens that surround you. There are white plaster representations of animals. Very occasionally, there is some kind of interesting artifact – an earthquake measuring device, a notebook kept by a scientist who was cataloging insects, etc. But these are few and far between. There are many plaques and walls to read and the items that accompany them are disappointing. Most kids would be bored by the place and even adults would find little reason to visit more than once.

There are numerous helpful guides who are all very eager to share information (in Spanish and English) about biodiversity. Still, most people don’t come to a museum for a lecture. The museum does have plans to expand into a wing that is, at this moment, relatively unused. And it seems that there is money behind the museum, so perhaps as it matures it will be able to fund some more engaging exhibits. The building itself is interesting to see and it conveys the messy chaos of nature quite well. But the funhouse atmosphere feels forced after awhile, especially when what’s inside the funhouse is just not all that stimulating.

Every now and then I walk into a place that’s so welcoming and aesthetically pleasing that I feel like I’m home–even though I’ve never been there. One such place is the Nomada Eatery. I was only there once for a fine American breakfast of bacon and eggs, but while I was there I felt the satisfaction of knowing that I was in an interior space that had been wonderfully and whimsically designed.

Located in Caso Viejo, the old quarter of Panama City, the Nomada Eatery is another one of those places that seem designed to attract a certain kind of traveler. It’s in the same building as Luna’s Castle Hostel, which may help account for its funky international vibe.

The bathroom there is a treat in itself. Books are glued to the walls and ceiling in front of and above the toilet. Graffiti seems to be encouraged.

And on the wall next to the toilet is a reflective reminder to zip up.

I’m back with another photoessay about signs, this time in the oldest neighborhood in Panama City. This may be my last one, though. One of my favorite British road signs reads “Changed Priorities Ahead,” which is the best description of life’s vicissitudes I’ve ever encountered. After my posts about signs in Santo Domingo, Chefchaouen, Hong Kong, Nicaragua, and Fes, blogging pictures of signs is starting to feel a little old. But until I find some way to kick the habit, here’s what I saw in Casco Viejo.

This photo shows the contrast between the old and the new Panama City. Like Cartagena, Colombia, Panama City has done a good job of building a modern boomtown without ruining the character of its old historic city. The skyscrapers of downtown – “the Dubai of Central America” – are located safely across the bay from Casco Viejo, which benefits from its isolation on three sides by the Panama Bay.

The old city is no stranger to luxury. This hotel (with its name spelled out in a cool retro-font) is one of the chicest places in either the new or old cities.

But my chief interest lies in the downmarket signs. Here’s one for a math tutor trying to make a buck. I’d like to think that the tutor within is a genius on the order of Gödel, Newton, or Spinoza.

The signs in the pic below don’t tell the story; they just provide the context. Lady in a fancy white dress. Big suitcase. Helpful policeman. The story writes itself.

What would Panama be without Panama hats? Pretty much the same. The only people I’ve seen wearing them are tourists like me. But damn, they look good in them.

Stop. Do not enter this kitchen. We used to have a similar rule in effect at certain times when my sons were young.

I wonder if this Peruvian restaurant ran out of green paint, ran out of money, or both. But as long as they don’t run out of quinoa, kiwicha, or chili peppers, I think’s they’ll be OK.

I’ve always wondered where to find one of these. But alas, Jack Sparrow was not in.

Alley Oop and Slam Dunk are some of the only real wild style art I saw in Casco. Well done.

Nicolás Pacheco was a beloved Panamanian high school teacher of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He also organized and taught night school classes for adults. He was, by all accounts, a very hard-working and modest man who was much admired by his students and their parents. This school is named after him.

If I lived in Casco Viejo, I’d want a house with a tile sign like one of these proclaiming

Casa Santiago Zorro Trumm

That would be a rough rendering of my name in old Spanish.

There’s not much special about these signs. I’m posting them to remind me of my aspirations.

It rained for five days straight after I arrived in Panama City. But finally there came a day where the skies, while not exactly bright and sunny, were at least not pouring down rain. I used the opportunity to go to Casco Viejo, the oldest part of Panama City. The neighborhood, which dates back to 1519, sits on a stubby peninsula that juts out into Panama Bay, surrounded on three sides by water. I was here:

Though it’s undeniably an historic district, Casco Viejo is also a living, breathing community. Well-to-do people, the middle class, and poorer folks all live there in close proximity to each other. And even though they live in a UNESCO World Heritage site, they still have to do laundry like everyone else. The Sunday I went was apparently laundry day. Coincidentally, it was also just a few days before the start of Panama’s month-long celebration of nationhood, El Mes de Patria. Panamanian flags and red, white, and blue bunting hung everywhere, sometimes commingling with the laundry.