Dawn Berkoski

I smiled brightly as I headed up the hill towards the 12th century, Sé do Porto, but when I arrived, my bouncy steps faltered and my smile slipped. Was this a church or a medieval fortress?

In the courtyard, a towering statue stood where a pillory once was. And nearby, a commanding statue of a knight on horseback stared over the city towards the Duoro River as if a warning.

Still, despite the ominous facade, I was filled with expectation. Something had shifted in me since arriving in Portugal, since spotting that first green door. After years of feeling closed off and gray, like the exterior of this historic cathedral, I now felt open and hopeful. I dared to dream again.

Not even the long lines would stand in my way!

So, I went through the narrow entrance of the church, which had been split into enter an exit lines, passed through a tight, dark paneled hallway, and straight into the Cloisters.

There, light spilled into my vision, openness had new meaning, and I stood with my mouth open, just trying to take it all in. While the imposing exterior of Se do Porto was all tall towers and straight lines, the inside was curvaceous, soft, and creatively alive. It was beautiful! I smiled so wide that my face hurt.

I decided to head to the tower first, navigating up dark stairwells to get my lay of the land and take in the views. It was worth the climb. I looked out over terra cotta roofs, all that lovely architecture and street art, soaking up inspiration and sunshine. I wondered if Cézanne was this high up when he painted the burnished red tiles of Paris.

Afterwards, I descended to the lower levels and found funerary stones, chapels, and other religious artifacts. And then I returned to the cloisters, exploring statues and stories crafted on polished azulejos tiles. I was reminded of the Palace of the Dukes of Braganca in Guimarães, with similar columns and archways, and wondered about a connection.

Each doorway I passed through, each fantastical room that I entered, was further proof that what seemed scary at first wasn’t. I had emerged from my grief, but this was only the first step. I was still hesitant. I needed to be like the monument where the pillory once stood, not letting the dark periods in my past define me. Or like the knight on horseback, standing strong against the tide, not letting faceless fears take away my life.

Then maybe I could let others in. Share my dreams with the world. Share my thoughts and visions. Maybe my words might inspire someone else….

To dare.

To dream.

To hope.

Dawn B~