“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien
The first thing I noticed about Amarante was a row of green doors. I had photographed a similar set in Porto upon arrival, and I couldn’t help but compare them. Was there a significance? How old were they? My fleeting thoughts soon faded, replaced by other curiosities as I roamed around the city, admiring the shops and eating pastries.
Later, those doors would haunt me.
But then, I was soaking up the sunshine, experiencing the thrill of a new place. In Portuguese, amar means to love, not the fleeting type, a deeper bond. The Romans called the city Amarantus. And today, people visit Amarante for all sorts of reasons, especially if they are searching for love. As a writer enamored by love stories, my reason to visit was equally simple: To find the 13th century tomb of São Gonçalo, a saint known for uniting souls.
To enter his tomb, I had to cross the Ponte São Gonçalo, an arched bridge of Napoleonic War fame. And on the other side, near the banks of the Tâmega River, was the beautiful Igreja de São Gonçalo, a church with famous sculptures, elaborate carvings, and a shimmering gilded altar.
The tomb—it was made to admire. Admirar. I trailed my fingers along the limestone sarcophagus, marveling at the coolness on a stifling summer day. On the ceiling, woven between frescoes and gold carvings, were oil paintings so rich and deep that I wanted to lay down on the tile floor and immerse myself in their story, that of the life of the saint and his journey. I had to settle for some quick photos, and the hope that I would continue to see such beauty on my travels.
I found the patron saint of love.
But maybe hope needed to be found.
Dawn B~
Dawn Berkoski 
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