Every time it rains in Guimarães, and it rains often, I remember the yellow umbrella I lost at Largo da Oliveira. It was my first week at the University of Minho, and I had stepped into a café to warm up, nervous and soaked, when I met Matilde. We ate pastel de nata and talked for hours. I forgot my umbrella, but I remember her smile, how it blended with the shining stone walls of the square.