Dawn Berkoski

As I left the tomb of São Gonçalo in Amarante, my curiosity over the row of green doors faded. But the color took on new significance as I traveled further East along the Douro River. Everything was green. A poignant picture of life and bounty; that’s the Douro River Valley.

Lunch was at Quinta Da Fonte Do Milho, a family-owned vineyard since the early 1900’s. I had my first taste of Portuguese Port, and I was instantly delighted. I soaked in my environment, sipping wine in the shade, eating olive tapenade, and making new friends on a hot summer day. Everything was fresh and light and perfect. But when I learned the history of the UNESCO region, it sobered me.

Droughts, flooding, erosion: To grow and live in this valley, one must hold strong. Rivers give life, but they can take it away. There are strict rules for the landowners here, what crops they can plant, when, where, and how to attain water without drawing from the river.

This valley is strong and resilient, vulnerable, and fragile. If this life-giving river ever dried up, whole lives would be swallowed. Even though everything appeared green, I saw what could be. Similar rising mounds and dips, only covered in acres of scorched earth, dust, and burning heat. The landscapes transposed in my mind, leaving me more unnerved than any catacomb or graveyard ever could.

Suddenly, I was desperate to see the water, to run my fingers through the rippling waves, because I understood too well how swiftly life could change. And so, I hopped on a boat with my new friends.

The water healed me.

I wish I could convey the beauty of the terraced vineyards that stretch for miles, the welcome breeze off the Rio Douro on a scorching day, the sweetness of that pink port, the history of wine making that dates back some 2,000 years.

I tried to remember that harmonious feeling when I headed to my next destination and a certain bend in the road sent a chill up my spine. There, as if embedded into the side of the mountain, was another row of green doors.

Dawn B~