In my dreams the military had followed us back from the Hmong village, sniffing our trail like tenacious bloodhounds. They turned the corner of the karaoke bar and plodded massively across the cracked tiles. The building shook with their steps...

I awoke to an insistent hammering on my door. The receptionist shouldered his way in. "You must pay now. I vee-rry busy in the morning." He stuck out his hand. "American dollars." Once he was gone I padded down the hall to the communal showers. The toilet bowl had been torn out of its foundation and cockroaches welled up through the hole in a steady, scurrying stream. The stench of raw sewage clung to the walls and water.

I waited for the icy trickle to warm up. The long hours in the rain had left me in no mood for a cold shower. After several minutes I turned off the tap and padded downstairs, the roaches crunching under my feet.

"You are making a joke," the receptionist said when I asked him to turn on the boiler. I pointed out that the room had included a surcharge for hot water. After several minutes of argument he acquiesced gracelessly and waved me away from his interrupted card game. I crawled back up the stairs.

This time there was no water at all, just the faint clicking sound of endless roaches and the slow drip of an empty faucet. I wiped the grime off my face with the back of one hand and plodded back downstairs, thinking evil thoughts.

The first floor stairwell was barricaded, the iron grate held in place by a rusty chain and lock. Beyond it I could hear a burst of laughter from the card table and the karaoke bar shifting into full swing. I rattled the bars. The receptionist's face appeared briefly at the end of the hall, cracked its first smile, and was gone.