Luxury, but with a Liberian twist

My hotel room in Liberia is fancy. This kingly space has a big bed, a sofa set, a spacious bathroom. By way of other amenities, it also has air-conditioning, satellite television, and in-house laundry service--the luxuries you would expect for $150 a night.

But even in my bastion of opulence, it hard to ignore the corrosive climate of Liberia. Take the walls. Although mostly clean and pristine, there are some spots with minor mildew and others with major water damage.

Consider, too, my view. From my window, on most days, you can see the ocean. But now, before you reach that magnificent vista, you see a minor body of water forming on my floor, the drippings from my ceiling.

Liberia's humid climate infiltrates everything. The roads are full of water. The potholes are ponds. The drainage ditches, sometimes dry, are now streams.

Structures fare no better. Downtown Monrovia is filled with dour, gray buildings, which would be beautiful but for the decay of Liberia's oppressive heat and punishing humidity. Even the stately pleasure domes, which expats do decree, degrade slowly in the soggy wet. Take my hotel: luxurious but leaky.