My two months of traveling through Russia and Mongolia, ended with a short stay in Beijing, before making my way back home.

I stayed in a hostel situated in the hutongs, alleys formed by lines of siheyuan, traditional courtyard residences, relatively undisturbed by the incessant modernization. There, I was greeted by a friendly young man who worked at the hostel. He introduced himself as Lucky. During my short stay our paths crossed often and we would exchange a warm hello.

One day, not unlike the others, I said, “Hey Lucky.” He smiled and returned the greeting, but this time another employee said, “His name is not Lucky.” Suprised, I asked,” It’s not? What is it?” “Lucky” he said. “Lucky?” I responded somewhat confused. “No, Lucky, you know Sylvester Stallone, Lucky,” he said emphatically. “Rocky?” I asked.”Yes, Lucky,” I heard him say again.