My wife suggests that we should acquire some pottery from the ethnic minorities of Yunnan, and the very first thing that comes to her mind is Dai Tao—the distinctive pottery crafted by the Dai people.

After a long and exhausting nine-hour bus ride from Kunming ( no high speed train yet ) , we finally arrive in Jinghong late in the evening, too tired to start our search for Dai Tao pottery that night. The next morning, we wander through local tea shops, asking about Dai pottery, but receive little useful information. We find a few shops in town catering mostly to tourists, offering pottery that seems unrelated to tea. Some carry simple gaiwans and tea cups, but the craftsmanship feels rough and unrefined.
After several days of exploring the town and consulting locals with little success, we begin to lose hope. Then, a tea vendor directs us to a small Dai village called Mang Zhang, just an hour away from Jinghong. Determined, we catch a bus early the next morning with all our bags, planning to stay overnight and finally discover the authentic pottery we seek.

Just passing through the main gate, it’s pretty obvious this place has been fully “turistified.” There are restaurants everywhere and street signs pointing to all kinds of activities like pottery making, Dai paper craft, and local dress shopping. (Hard to believe it’s the real deal without the tourists swarming around in the pictures!)

Dai pottery ( slow wheel ) made on hand rotating stand is available in first restaurant for trial. For 10CNY u can try and another 10CNY can take product away.

I can’t resist trying my hand at making Dai paper, which is often used to wrap pu-erh tea cakes. The process looks simple but pounding boiled tree bark with a wooden hammer definitely takes some serious energy! The bark needs to be broken down into tiny strings, which are then mixed with water and transformed into a fluffy pulp. Portions of this fluffy pulp are carefully spread onto a flat, square strainer and dipped into a water pool, allowing the bark fibers to evenly disperse and form the paper.

Then you just slowly lift the strainer, letting the water drip through, and leave it to dry in the sun. Quite the fun for just 10 CNY! But honestly, when the lady starts directing my wife on exactly which angle to take the photo from—and proudly shows off a framed picture of herself with a foreign family who visited last year with their kids—it all feels less like an authentic village and more like we’ve wandered straight into a cultural zoo. :-/

After buying a small pack of tea from a local granny—actually, not a bad sheng pu—we wander around the village still searching for the pottery we came for. It’s clear the locals have only recently taken up pottery again, probably to attract tourists like us. We feel lucky to be there before the weekend because, besides the usual accommodation in a Dai house (though not the classic traditional type), you can also rent a caravan—but funny enough, that costs more than renting three rooms in the entire village!

Am I surprised that Saturday is all booked out?

Anyway, I have to admit we had a pretty great day there—delicious noodles for just 6 CNY and a wonderfully lazy rest in a hammock during the scorching afternoon. Still, despite all that, we didn’t manage to find what we actually came for 🙁

Second attempt, and yet another failure. I’m just about ready to give up, but on the way back, we strike up a chat with a local granny—and finally, she points us in the right direction.

We head to another spot where we finally meet the real pottery makers—a small, family-run workshop. They skillfully create not only the traditional large pottery pieces but also elegant gaiwans and other small items perfectly suited for the tea ceremony.

They have a tiny workshop tucked behind the shop, with just a few workers busy at their craft, and a charming wooden hut set up as a cozy presentation room.

In addition to the regular gas kiln firing, they still offer the traditional wood-fired method as well.

While talking to the shop owner, one of the workers quietly brings us tea, smiling at us the whole time without saying a word. Later, we learn she is The Master—the creative force behind most of the art in their workshop.
The Feng family has inherited and preserved these ancestral techniques, and today she is the only true Dai Tao master left in China. She began learning pottery from her mother as a child. Unlike other pottery or teapot makers focused on commercial production, she rarely made pottery for sale, spending most of her time teaching students eager to learn the ancient Dai Tao slow wheel technique.
Long ago, many Dai villages made pottery for everyday use. Interestingly, only women were allowed to pass down the Dai Tao pottery skills, while only men were permitted to learn the Dai characters and teach other men. Over time, this ancient pottery tradition nearly vanished.

Later on, we discovered another Dai pottery studio where a few dedicated masters craft some truly beautiful pieces.

Dai Tao Pottery