Chefchaoan. Our final stop. It is a city of white and blue nestled into the mountains. It was once a Jewish, hence the buildings of white and blue, and until the first half of the twentieth century, no Christian was allowed with its walls. It is a bit of a tourist city, and full of markets and venders selling leather bags, genii pants (also dubbed fun pants, fancy pants, and crazy pants by members of our group), scarfs, post cards, trinkets, and food stuffs. Also, a myriad of adorable, but still stray, cats. We stayed in a beautiful hostel, with a roof top that looked up into the stars at night. We went up to the roof after dinner, and as I looked at the stars, I realized how much I had miss them. I can't see the stars in Granada. This is the first time I've ever lived anywhere that I couldn't see the stars. But it the open, rugged mountains of Morocco, I could.
The next morning there was an optional hike at 7 am. While on the one hand it was early, I also love hiking, and I opted to go. In the morning, the sky was gray and air cool, and hardly anyone but us in sight. Even the cats were asleep. It was just us and the blue buildings and the mountains. Our hike led us a little out of the city, up into the foothills to a mosque looking over the city. It wasn't strenuous, but it was beautiful. And now that I'm gone from Morocco, it is those mist covered mountains that I see in my mind. It is a landscape that is both rugged and majestic in its roughness. The people are hospitable and humble, full of hope for their country. They are diverse in ideals and opinions and beliefs, and aren't a people or a place I will be quick to forget. 
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