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Sleeping in a bell tower—now that’s one of those ideas that sounds charming, like something out of a travel brochure. In reality, though, it’s about as restful as trying to nap in the middle of a construction site, but with more bells, cats, and random acts of chaos.

Let me set the stage. This particular bell tower had a clock that believed time was more of an artistic suggestion than a hard rule. So instead of chiming on the hour like a normal bell, this one preferred to surprise you. One minute, it’s eerily silent, and the next it’s blasting out an off-key GONG that rattles your bones and makes you question all your life choices. It got so bad, I started flinching every time the wind moved, just waiting for the next random cacophony.

Now, as if that wasn’t enough to keep things lively, the bell tower also came with its very own pair of local cats. And not the kind that curl up and purr on your lap, no sir. These were highly trained, professional rat assassins, and they had decided tonight was the night to wage their final battle. Just as I was about to doze off, I’d hear the rapid-fire skittering of paws as they launched their nightly raid. Every so often, there’d be a loud thud, a sharp squeak, and then the sound of a cat tearing off like it was chasing its prey straight into another dimension. If you’ve never had a two-cat demolition derby play out above your head while trying to sleep, I highly recommend it if you’re hoping to go insane.

Of course, all of this is happening while I’m crammed into a bed that was clearly designed for someone about three feet shorter than me. Every time I stretched out, my toes dangled off the end like they were making a desperate bid for freedom. I tried curling up, scrunching into the fetal position, and even lying diagonally, but none of it worked. Eventually, I gave up and let my feet hang off the edge, where they could periodically slap the cold stone floor like some sort of sad, rhythmic protest against my poor life decisions.

Just as I thought I’d found the least uncomfortable position possible, the bell tower decided it had been too quiet for too long. With no warning whatsoever, it let loose a blast so off-key, so aggressive, I thought for sure it was trying to murder me. The cats, already in full pursuit of their rodent foes, took this as their cue to shift into high gear. I swear they hit warp speed, zooming around the room like tiny, furry missiles.

Meanwhile, my feet were still tapping the floor as if trying to send Morse code for help. But I wasn’t going anywhere, because I was trapped—trapped between a tower with a bell that had lost all concept of time, two cats reenacting the Fast and Furious, and a bunk bed that clearly had it out for me.

In the morning, as I peeled myself out of bed, I realized two things. One: I had survived the night. And two: The bells? They didn’t even ring when they were supposed to. Of course not.

Enough about the bell tower and cats…

Today from Monsanto to Fatima was about 25 km. Now normally 25km is about the perfect distance… in cool, flat terrain. Well, today was hot and hilly, through much of the same loos rock and boulders that we experienced the day before. About half of the trail was like this and the other half, asphalt.

We met our first pilgrim – Sandra from Austria. We walked and talked for hours and enjoyed company with her. We then all went to dinner in Fatima and said our goodbyes. That’s the way of the Camino. We might see her again here in Fatima, but likely not, and tomorrow our Camino’s diverge once again as we skip ahead to Oporto due to time and fires.