Regimented ranks of hydrangeas, violet and white petals nodding in the breeze, hedge the narrow, twisting roads which meander over the islands. The stillness presses on the ears of city-dwellers. Waves wash the black cliffs with white froth. Houses boldly creep up to the sea front like a dare. Vehicles are scarce.
Dairy farmers are as likely to ride clip-clopping mules laden with milk churns as cars.
The Azores, Europe's westernmost outpost, are largely undeveloped. Most people live modestly from fishing or farming. They are a deeply religious and conservative people, famed for their hospitality. It's a place where people leave the front door unlocked when they go out. Aware how lucky they are, the islanders don't want to draw crowds.