The stretch of Mekong that passes by Mutmee Guesthouse, just before a storm. A bridge between Thailand and Laos is visible in the distance.

We’re in Nong Khai. It’s in Thailand – almost, but not quite – opposite Vientiane, in Laos. Our bed tonight is at Mut Mee Guesthouse, on the Mekong; we stare out across the river at the country where we spent the last three months. Tonight, there is a baci underway on the opposite bank: a party and a religious occasion rolled into one, with ear-splitting music that pounds across the two or three hundred metres of water in the still night air. It is the same soundtrack we fell asleep to in Luang Prabang: a tinny, unvaried beat that sounds like people having fun – and like Laos calling out to us, saying ‘Where have you gone?’