At the end of each school year, ISB students take part in a China Link trip to discover the country’s cultural diversity. One such trip takes a dozen of students to Jingdezhen, a small town where everyone, it seems, takes part in the traditional craft of porcelain-making.

Student expectations for the trip were quite low. They voiced concerns, based on past experiences, about poor sanitary conditions, repetitive menus consisting of fried rice and sweet and sour chicken, long bus rides, long hours, and boring tour guides with terribly pronounciation. To take our minds off the impending discomfort and boredom we predicted, more than half the students brought along SAT review books for the test administered two days after our return to Beijing.

But as it turns out, our expectations were quite wrong.

Over the course of three days, a tour guide we affectionately referred to as “jie jie” (older sister) took us to see an international artist commune called Sanbao, the ancient porcelain-making town of Yaoli, countless master potters, and even more factory workers that Julia Wang considered “really talented”. We witnessed craftsmen throwing pots so large that they first made five segments which could then be assembled together. We saw painters etch the most intricate designs onto an impossibly small surface. Finally, we even got hands-on experience by painting two large pillars in a traditional blue-and-white colour-scheme fused with a modern design concept.

In our abundant spare time, we visited local shopping streets and interacted with the citizens, sampled street food like large fried chicken legs sold at five RMB a pair, and took some “really unusual [mini-van] taxis that are only five RMB” as Michelle Oliver pointed out. Students appreciated the fact that the trip “was relaxing and gave us time to explore on our own,” says Tiffany Huang.

The only complaint made was that the experience became a bit too “touristy,” says Angela Sun. We hit all the important touristic destinations, where the production line was displayed in a way that would be understandable to the public and where every worker was had a smile on his face. It seemed scripted. Or maybe the locals were just happy to get recognition for their work. We also shopped for Jingdezhen porcelain in stores where goods seem to cater to foreign taste (for example: a set of sugar, salt, and spices dispenser labeled as such, in English).

A theme that eventually emerged from the trip is the mutual fascination between students and locals. As we observed masters at work, their ease with the familiar clay gained a hypnotic quality that just kept us watching. When it was our turn to showcase our creative pillar designs, the craftsmen stood back in wonder and amusement at our strange compositions and ignorance of traditional techniques. While we were amazed by the skill of the artisans, they were equally curious about our way of life.

I can’t help but to wonder whether their curiosity stems from a desire to sell us things. I hope that so much tourism doesn't end up completely commercializing the traditional craft of Jingdezhen’s renowned porcelain-making.