Around the World in 10 Delicious Tea Experiences

For someone who claims not to like tea, I sure do love a lot of tea-related activities. When I look back on some of my favourite travel memories, tea is almost always in the room. A glass of mint tea in a Moroccan snowstorm. A bowl of matcha in Kyoto. A quiet tea house in Himeji. Rows of green bushes rolling across the hills of Kenya, South Korea and Thailand. Scones and fine china in Windhoek, Livingstone, Nairobi and London.

Different countries, different customs, different cups, but somehow, tea has a way of finding its way into the moments I remember most fondly.

In Japan, the tea ceremony is known as sadō, which translates to “the way of tea.” It is the art of preparing and serving matcha with intention, respect and mindfulness. It was during one of these ceremonies that I finally put into words something I had perhaps known all along – I still don’t particularly enjoy the taste of tea, but I love everything that surrounds it. The traditions, the people, the land, and the quiet invitation to slow down, sit still and simply be where you are.

Perhaps that’s why I remember these moments so vividly. Not for the tea itself, but for the places it has taken me, the people I’ve shared it with, and the little glimpses of life that might otherwise have passed me by. Some began with a cup of tea. Others, as you’ll see, began with a snowstorm.

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Morocco: Mint Tea in a Snowstorm

Nobody packs for snow in Morocco. We certainly didn’t. When the storm rolled in and the roads closed, we found ourselves stuck, cold, and with nowhere to go.

Then came the invitation for tea. As we waited in our car for the roads to reopen, someone invited us into a nearby building to warm up. Years later, I still remember the extraordinary hospitality we were shown.

Morocco is famous for its mint tea, and there is an artistry to the whole ritual – the graceful pour, the little glasses, and the generosity that comes with every serving. The tea itself almost becomes secondary to the experience around it. In that moment, it was more than a drink. It was warmth, welcome, and kindness from strangers.

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Sadō – The Way of Tea

One fine afternoon, I wandered through the narrow streets of Kyoto to an unassuming building tucked into the Gion district. On any other day, I would have walked right past it. On this day, I went in.

I was ushered into a room and dressed in a kimono before being led into another, where our small group knelt and waited for our host. In front of each of us sat a bowl, a bamboo whisk, and a single delicate sweet.

As we waited, I found myself imagining a different time. For a moment, I was no longer a tourist but a guest in centuries-old Japan, welcomed into the home of a wealthy merchant and invited to share in a tradition passed down through generations. Every movement was deliberate, every gesture carrying meaning. We watched our host prepare the matcha, paying attention to the smallest details, before following her lead and making a bowl of our own.

And I can tell you, as someone with a serious sweet tooth, I have never enjoyed a bitter drink quite so much! Will I ever find myself whisking up a bowl of matcha at home? I wouldn’t count on it. But I do know this – I’ll happily attend another tea ceremony, and on my next visits to Japan, I’ll be seeking out every matcha-flavoured treat I can get my hands on.

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Himeji: The Tea House

In Himeji, stumbling upon the Soju-an Tea House was a delight in itself. The experience echoed our tea ceremony in Kyoto, but felt less formal, less curated, and all the more special for it. We sat on tatami mats, savoured matcha and delicate sweets, and then took our time admiring the meticulously manicured garden surrounding the tea house.

It was one of those simple, unhurried moments that stay with you long after the trip is over.

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Kenya, South Korea and Thailand: Walking the Fields

Ceremonies show you what tea means. The fields show you where it all begins.

In Kenya’s highlands, I joined a tea farm tour to see how tea makes its way from farm to table. It was fascinating to follow the journey from the neat rows of tea bushes stretching across the hills to the cup eventually poured in someone’s kitchen, and to appreciate just how much work goes into it.

In Chiang Rai, northern Thailand, and Boseong, South Korea, I found myself fascinated by the landscapes that produce something so familiar, even if the drink itself has never quite won me over.

Naturally, I had to try the green tea ice cream. It was beautiful to look at, that lovely shade of green that practically begs to be photographed. Unfortunately, my taste buds were less impressed than my camera. I wanted to love it. I really did. But much like tea itself, green tea ice cream and I remain in a complicated relationship. I love the idea of it, admire its aesthetic, and am always willing to give it another chance. The results, however, remain disappointingly predictable.

Thankfully, the nearby cafés offered another way to appreciate tea. Sitting down with a cup, surrounded by the very fields it came from, was an experience I enjoyed far more than I expected to enjoy the tea itself.

I may never become someone who craves a cup of tea, but take me to the fields where it grows, a café with a view, or somewhere that invites me to slow down, and I’m entirely sold.

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Livingstone, Nairobi, Windhoek, London: Afternoon Tea Four Ways

Afternoon tea is a British tradition, but its presence in places like Zambia and Kenya carries a more complicated history. In both countries, afternoon tea exists within landscapes and cultures that are distinctly their own, even as traces of British influence remain.

In London, where the tradition originated in its familiar form, the experience feels like a return to its source.

And in Namibia, afternoon tea comes with giraffes!

What the Cup Really Holds

I’ve often found it funny that I can kneel in a kimono for a tea ceremony, wander through miles of tea fields, and travel across continents in pursuit of tea, all without being particularly fond of the drink itself. I often joke that I’m living a bit of a fake life…

Now I understand. When I hold a cup of tea today, I am not really tasting leaves and water. I am holding the snowstorm in Morocco, the quiet of a Gion tea room, the garden in Himeji, the pickers on the hills of Kenya and South Korea. The laughter around afternoon tea in Nairobi and Windhoek…

My experience of tea is not a flavour. It is a collection of people and places, all poured into one cup.

You don’t have to love something to appreciate it deeply. So the next time someone offers you tea, wherever in the world you are, say yes. You might not love what is inside the cup. But you will be holding a story much bigger than yourself.