Playing in the Mud

Today was a very joyous day.  If there is one thing that I miss more than Mexican food - more than driving a car - more than game nights - it's pottery.  My life was consumed by clay up until the last week before leaving America.  I taught wheel throwing, I sold my ceramics, I had clay parties and get-togethers at my apartment - it's an understatement to give clay the name "hobby;" it was a big part of my life, and my happiness.
So when I moved here, its absence left a pretty big, muddy hole.  I'm ashamed to say that I didn't know that the Thanh Ha Pottery Village existed until a month ago, and that I hadn't visited until today.  Rain or shine, Andy and I were on a mission to visit.  (It rained).  The cold, wet day put no damper on our spirits!  We found the village 45 minutes away - just West of Hoi An.

Reconstituting clay with his feet!

At first, it didn't look like much.  We drove around until one woman waved and said hello from her yard.  "Why not?"  I said.  We parked our bikes and ascended the steps to her home.  There were molds everywhere and lots of greenware (unfired clay) piled on the ground and in rows on shelves.  Feeling slightly disappointed that this family only made mold duplicates, I was still appreciating seeing their process and their mammoth kilns.  Considering the amount of greenware waiting around, I'd imagine they only fire it up once in a great while.  Stepping inside their compound, I witnessed a woman sitting on a stool, carving holes out of a giant mold vase.  She didn't mind our presence and continued to carve after offering a smile and "lantern" explanation.
Stepping into the next room, I finally found what I had been looking for.  An unattended large disc on the ground with an accompanying squat stool.  I knew what I was looking at.  The most primitive wheel I will ever have the privilege to throw on.  The woman saw my smile and pointed with raised eyebrows.

"Dạ! Dạ!" (Yes! Yes!)

So the old man who was pugging the clay out back brought some over and allowed me to wedge it up to prepare for the wheel.  They giggled at my eagerness and the wife of this duo stood on one side of the wheel as I positioned myself (so low!) opposite her.  This woman was going to kick for me as I threw approximately four pounds - no electric wheels here!  I think they were a little surprised that I had no problem on my own.  Pardon the expression, but I was the happiest pig in shit during these five minutes in heaven.  
My friend Andy also gave their wheel a whirl and stepped away all smiles with his beautiful little bowl to show.  For their generous hospitality, we purchased four small bowls and started walking away, but not without an old woman tugging at my arm to buy more trinkets from her.  I smiled and said thank you, no, but she persisted.  She pulled me around, pointed at her trinkets and then to her opened mouth, which I tried not to wince at seeing: the inside was completely covered in blood.  I felt overwhelmed with sympathy and a bit disturbed by what I'd seen, but we had purchased and said our thank yous to the family and had to move on.  Healthcare in small villages is especially difficult for the elderly.  Sitting here on this couch, reliving the sadness in her eyes, I won't soon forget the moment I realized how few medical options there are and feeling the weight of my inability to help.  

Next, we stopped into another family's compound and there, squatting in a position I can barely get into, was a really old woman throwing off the hump on their kick wheel.  This fantastic ceramicist was at the ripe young age of 89.  She beckoned us over and we had another round of wheel throwing as she watched with unending kindness in her expression.  Thinking about the history of Vietnam's struggles and triumphs over the last several decades, I wonder what she has seen and lived through.  Has she been in this village her whole life, throwing pots?  Damn this language barrier!  I could have sat with her for days, asking about her life experiences and throwing with her. 

I already can't wait to go back.  It really was a very magical day.  

Throwing with the wise old ceramicist.