Les Visiteurs and I

Have you seen the movie “Les Visiteurs” with Jean Reno playing a medieval nobleman with his sword and his clothes and his attitude?

Hint:

Well I envisage myself as the Moldovan-Romanian version of the traveller. A Dac, fresh from antiquity. It’s funny that the best imagistic account of the Daci is the one that symbolized their demise – Trajan’s Column.

Yes, some people know about the Trojan horse the war trick, others about Trojan horse the virus and most know about Trojan the condoms.

We know about Trajan’s Column, a totally different story. The Trojan horse belongs to Greek mythology and came into play after goddesses Aphrodite, Hera and Athena couldn’t decide which was fairest. The Trajan Column belongs to reality and it impacted what are now over 25 million people. That’s how we speak a Roman language in this part of the world isolated from the main Roman cluster.

Not the point.

So yeah, the imagery from the Column:

This could easily be an older profile of me, or any other random woman on the street. We didn’t change much. There we are, baby in hand, doing what we do best: support functions.

Now here is another problem I have with this Dragosh-induced view of the self: when exactly in time do we decide that this is our identity and what happened next was just an alteration and needs to be reversed. Most people at home believe that they are “Moldovans” as in the post-communist stupid ugly beast. The intellectuals tend to promote the “Moldovan-Romanians” that we were before the Russians. Some very few, like Dragos, say that we were genuine only before the Romans conquered us 2000 years ago, therefore the discussion about the Daci.

As to what concerns me, this is what I have to choose from, in chronological order:

I would drop out the deity just because I smell something fishy every time a God takes a form oddly similar to human. I am dropping out the fourth one for being a French copy-cat and the last one for being an American… freedom… expression… fighter… I don’t really know what she is but I’m dropping the Moldovan woman of today. Now I don’t like the third one for the connotation that it’s been given: traditional = countryside = poor and stupid and always inferior to the woman in trend with the world (like number 5). So I’m left with the second one. And I quite like it: the strong, dignified, beautiful daughter of a king (albeit only in Nicolaescu’s imagination).

So I adopt this image of self and walk proudly on the streets of my kingdom. I believe that anything is possible, I need only wish. It might not be true, but tell me, when did things – good or bad – ever happen without a belief?

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