“Somebody has to,” said Bjorn. “Because this isn’t real, is it? The chief of police gives us free drinks. It must be such a liberal place. But it isn’t. It’s Vietnamese-style repression where you’re paper-worked to death. And you Lao have your own style of zero truth. They don’t say we can’t interview inmates in the reeducation camps, but it will be too difficult to get a flight north at this time of year. We’re welcome to speak with the minister who publically criticized the cooperatives, but he’s out of town right now. Everything’s possible, but nothing’s doable. You’re all cool about your history as colonized monkeys, but I don’t see any French or American newspaper people invited here. You were kind enough to let the Americans keep their consulate open after you took over, but they’re down to a diplomatic staff of six, and they aren’t allowed to do anything. You nullify your critics with your smiles and your fake indolence.”

There was a chilly Vientiane silence in the air for a second until Dtui laughed.

“Well I think I know who’s going to mysteriously disappear overnight,” she said.

A few more seconds for the chill to melt and the group fell into a swirl of laughter.

“At last, you’ve met your match, you grumpy old bastard,” said Jim to the drunken Swede.

They applauded the nurse, blew her kisses and congratulated Phosy for marrying her. In five minutes most of them were on their way to dinner and Phosy and Dtui were left with Marvin and Jim in front of the dark hotel façade.

“Nice to see you’ve all got it worked out,” said Phosy.

“Ah, don’t listen to that flaky old hack,” said Jim. “Nobody takes any notice of him. He’s been in the region so long he can’t see anything beyond his own bias.”

“So, you don’t agree with him?” Dtui asked.

“Some of it,” said Marvin. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. We’re very fond of this place. We aren’t going to belittle you in the press. But really, Dtui, what’s this junket all about? The government’s got nothing to show us apart from the fact you’re still here, still surviving in spite of all those years of war and strife. You’re a lesson to the world in tolerance, but I’m not buying the ‘land of the free’ angle.”

“You do know I’m not a plumber,” said Phosy.

“No, you’re a public servant,” said Jim. “And all the scary policies and cloak-and-dagger shit is put together at the Kremlins and the Stasi headquarters of the world, and I’d bet you’re no more aware of the dark side of your country than the average farmer. No offence.”