Bernard has lived in Cambodia for eight years. When a wedding tent goes up under his window, he knows he is in for it and drafts his complaint at once. He doesn’t yet know who it will end up serving.

Bernard flies to Paris. He promised the whole bar two weeks. The bar has taken precautions.

His bar had closed. Three weeks — just long enough for Sophea to repaint and swap out the fan that had squeaked since 2008. A man without his stool is a man without a country. So when some vague acquaintance mentioned a place that was “quiet, cheap, far from the Kevins,” Bernard heard paradise and said yes before he looked at a map.