Back when we were touring Vancouver, someone suggested a day trip to Seattle. What’s there to see? Boeing, Starbucks, or Microsoft? Sounded perhaps too much like the hyped, nonstop city we knew well.
Not until when I discovered the AMC series, The Killing, was there any real remorse about canceling on the coastal city. For two whole seasons (also nonstop) we were mesmerized by the ubiquitous rain and grey sky, and of course the dark lakes and woods that seemed to have swallowed everything bright and young.
My fascination on Holder also grew fast. By episode four or five he was already a staple favorite. What’s not to like? The warmth and integrity beneath a rugged hoodie and broken Eminem swag? The sheer cuteness of ‘little man’? You have all my attention Sir.
Yet something else was soon undermining the easy vibe of eye candy. ‘The bad guys. Who’s that?’ Linden asked Holder up front in the pilot. Who was being killed then? Not a singular victim who could no longer reveal identities and secrets, but many other ‘upstanding’ citizens of society, of normalized walks of life where survival meant submitting fully to the game results. The institutions, or so to speak, alienated humanity to a degree that institutional programming was deemed by its members bigger than life.
By the time we wrapped up Season 3, we flew out to Shanghai for the weekend. For two days we stayed in The Middle House, amidst a polished area where lanes of Linong housing once stood. House, Not a Hotel, happened to be the branded message. We did have a sense of place thanks to the city view and a comfortable table setup, but also a constant reminder of estrangement and alienation from the city we used to live in.
Why go on the road then? Perhaps exactly for being somewhere else and living like someone else. Travel outside routine, without any productive aim, and there might be a slim possibility to retain a private place of selfness.