Vietnam - Bát Tràng

A man from Hanoi we met whilst in the Ninh Binh area had recommended visiting Bát Tràng. A 700-year-old traditional pottery village located seven miles (13kms) southeast of Hanoi on the Red River bank, it has a museum and an extensive ceramic market.

I visited on Labour Day (1 May), a public holiday, which luckily meant the public bus was free! From the bus I could see on the outskirts of Hanoi new mini-cities being built tall tower blocks to house upwards of 50,000 people.

Arriving in Bát Tràng at 9am I made a beeline for the museum, wanting to get there before the crowds. The museum architecture is ace, inspired by the image of seven connecting pots intertwined together with horizontal waves representing the Red River.

I got a ticket to see the main exhibition - Past and Present. Despite there being little information I really enjoyed seeing the huge variety of pottery styles. The displays were brilliant with little models explaining the pottery process. And it was interesting learning about different periods and their glazes: e.g. the 14-15th century was dominated by a smoky brown glaze, 16-17th by green/blue and white, and in the 18th an ivory color was popular. Terracotta, moss-green, and ivory are together known as the special ‘three shades’ of Bát Tràng ceramics.

The whole ceramic process takes place in Bát Tràng - clay processing, shaping, drying, glazing, decorating, firing. I read there was strict organisation of the stages based on gender and age, and that different clans in the village held closely guarded recipes for Bát Tràng’s famous crackle glazes, celadon glazes, or specific cobalt blue tones.

The museum very quickly filled up. I enjoyed observing the difference in museum etiquette here compared to my experiences at home. Here it was all noise, taking selfies, ignoring signs and happily touching the exhibits, not being aware of your bag very nearly knocking over an ancient relic, and never reading any information displayed. When the chaos became too much, I slipped out, back to the village streets and made my way to the central markets to potter about the pottery.

On route I passed a large-scale bonsai garden café. (A certain Spanish friend came to mind). The bonsai trees were stunning, full of twists and balance, echoing ancient tree spirits. I left when the glow of discovery evaporated by seeing a sad dog lying in a small metal cage.

The village centre was lined with ceramic shops, vessels of all sizes bulging out into the street, bright shiny decorations swirling and tumbling across colourful glazes. The market just intensified the decorative assault on the eyes. Narrow paths led past stalls packed high with a vast selection of pottery - bowls, tea sets, vases, trinkets, and altar items. I thought to myself, it’s so good I am cycling and cannot possibly buy anything! Well… I reasoned… at least not anything too big, too heavy, or too fragile! Unable to resist, I settled on a tiny shallow bowl and matching ceramic spoon decorated with distinctive Bát Tràng dragonflies (which reminded me of all the dragonflies we’d experienced flying about us in our travels).

Happy with retail therapy dopamine I cruised out of the market, grabbed delicious-looking but sadly bland-tasting cassava fritters, and wandered up the road to Lò Bầu cổ, to see the ‘dragon kiln’. This is the last ancient gourd kiln - a huge multi-sectioned wood-fired walk-in ceramic kiln, which is pretty impressive. The location is also where you can turn your hand at making pottery. With the public holiday in full swing I entered into a teeming turmoil of tourists sat in the large courtyard hunched over pottery wheels. The place had a cheerful air of amateur creative industriousness.

Before I caught the return bus back to Hanoi, I rambled around village back streets. Signs of pottery life were everywhere - piles of raw clay piled against walls, raw pots waiting to be fired neatly stacked, and people in small family-run factories making pots. Being nosey does not always pay off and I was haunted down a street by the desperate yapping cries of a handful of small caged dogs. Being so close to cruelty makes me feel complicit.

With the sound still in my ears it was time to leave and I hopped on the busy bus to take me back to Hanoi.Read more