The Last Two Gardens in Europe

On a green hillside above the northern coast, rows of clipped tea bushes ran downhill in long, tidy stripes toward the sea, almost as neat as if they had been drawn with a ruler. Polly landed on a low stone wall at the edge of the plantation and looked out over one of only two places left on the entire European continent where tea is still grown commercially, and the only one open to visitors.

The plantation began in eighteen eighty-three, after a disease wiped out the oranges that used to be the island's main export. Looking for something else the volcanic soil could support, a local grower imported tea bushes along with English machinery built to process them, and both have stayed in near-continuous use ever since, making this the oldest working tea estate in Europe by a wide margin.

Inside the low factory building, iron machines more than a century old still roll, sort, and dry the leaves almost exactly as they did when they first arrived by ship. Workers still pick the newest growth by hand along the terraces, since the tender top leaves make the best tea, and nothing here is sprayed with pesticide or herbicide, a rule the growers have kept since the very beginning.

Polly walked along one warm terrace, brushing against rows of glossy green leaves that smelled faintly of grass and rain. Somewhere down the slope, five generations of growers had kept this hillside exactly as it was meant to be, one careful harvest at a time.