As I said, Moroccan Exchange was devoted to showing students the "real Morocco" and meeting "real people", therefore, on our third day in Morocco, once again we hopped on our bus and headed off to the Rif Mountains. Our final destination was Chefchaoan, a village of white and blue in the mountains. Along the way, however, we stopped in a village town to have lunch with a family there. We brought one of the Moroccan students with us to serve as translator, who also promised that we could ask the family anything and not be afraid of it being offensive, because he would be the filter. We all thought this was a bit hilarious, because this particular student we had already learned was notorious for saying literally anything without worrying of who he was offending, especially when it came to his remarkably progressive views. Apparently that was an ability he could turn off and on as he desired. 
The village was small, and unlike anywhere I had ever been. There were animals and children everywhere, running up the sandy paths. The house of the family hosting us was bigger than I'd expected, but still rather small. We all sat on cushioned benches, tired, hot, and hungry. Lunch was cuzcuz, which is now one of my favorite foods. And once again, we spent a long time in a cultural-exchange discussion. This one was different, seeing as our hosts didn't know english and we didn't know arabic (my low level of arabic really wasn't helpful at all), so it all went through our handy dandy translator. We talked about their daily lives on their farm, because we wanted to know how these people lived. They asked us about American wedding customs, and we asked theirs. Our hosts seemed very interred in marriage in the US, even asking us if we all wanted to get married. It was an awkward moment for a bit, because some of the girls in our group weren't sure, and didn't know how to express that and didn't know how our hosts would react. Once again, our translator filtered our doubts into a way that our hosts could appreciate. 
We then took a "hike" up the hills behind the house. I say hills because we were already in the mountains, and there was only a hill in the way of the top of the mountain. I was amazed at the balance and grace of the little children that ran up the mountain, because it was, at some points, crazy steep. You almost had to run the path for fear of falling. But the view was stunning, and worth a mountain goat impression or two.
About late afternoon we bid farewell to our hosts and piled into the bus, headed now for our last, but not least stop of Chefchaoan.
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