The porcelain capital in three days — the imperial kilns, the mountain its clay came from, and a cup you throw yourself.
3 days based in Jiangxi. Long enough to go beyond the postcards, short enough to fold into a longer visit or a first encounter. Private throughout, and paced to the travellers who come — not to the vehicle's schedule.
Everything on the ground is ours: our own guides, our own vehicles, our own crews — not a chain of subcontracted hands. The plan is written and priced line by line before you pay a deposit, and the same person answers you from the first email to the day you fly home.
And because this runs three days or more, the bed comes with the journey: 2 nights included, in places we have slept in ourselves, the same room throughout, booked by us, in your name, itemised in your quote.
Temples, teahouses, kitchens and workshops — the everyday side of the country, arranged so it happens around you rather than in front of you.
The dynasties read in order as you move — what each age left standing, and why it still matters where you are standing.
Your party only, your dates, your pace — one guide and one vehicle throughout, never shared with strangers.
Tickets, permits and timed entries held against your passport before you fly, then re-checked the week you travel.
“China is not a museum — it is a kitchen, a courtyard and a long conversation.”
The emperor's kilns, and the young city's market
Day 1The day is spent where the city's money was made: the walled Imperial Kiln Factory, where every piece of porcelain made for the imperial table was fired for six hundred years — and where the rejects and trial pieces were smashed and buried by the factory's own rules, because nobody outside the walls was allowed to own one. The pits are read on site, then the museum built over them, its curved brick vaults shaped like the kilns themselves and its collection assembled entirely from fragments. The afternoon walks the old porcelain town around the factory at an unhurried pace, and the evening belongs to the young city: the square at Taoxichuan, where the art-school graduates sell what they made that week, at prices that start conversations. The hotel is inside the quarter — the night market is a two-minute walk from the door.
The mountain that named a mineral
Day 2The word kaolin — the name the world's factories use for porcelain clay — comes from one hill outside this city, Gaoling, the high ridge. The day climbs to it the way the clay itself travelled: first the stone wharf at Dongpu, where the carts came down and the boats waited, its stones grooved by two centuries of loading; then the mine itself, adits and waterwheels in the chestnut forest with the old quarry pits still open; then downstream to Yaoli, the village that predates the industry, its Ming clan hall and riverside houses framed by forested hills, with the water-powered hammers at Rao'nan still pounding raw porcelain stone on the river. The return starts by four — the valley is a mountain road, and the evening is kept for the city.
The wheel, and the blue-and-white
Day 3The last morning goes to the hand. Sanbao is a valley of working studios fifteen minutes south-east of the centre — potters who came for the clay and never left, kilns firing behind the workshops, test tiles wired to every wall. An hour and a half at the wheel with a working potter steering your hands: wedging, centring, throwing, trimming — the four movements, done slowly. Glazing and firing happen after you leave; the finished cup is shipped home in two to four weeks. The afternoon closes where the story began: the China Ceramics Museum, read top down from the modern galleries to the fourth floor and the museum's treasure — a Yuan-dynasty blue-and-white meiping painted with peony scrolls, one of a handful on earth, fired when the cobalt still came overland from Persia. Then the station, and the train out.
Walking distances and start times are anchors, not walls — your guide flexes each day to the weather, the crowds and your legs, and the order of sights may adjust for timed-entry slots and closures. Nothing repeats and nothing is retraced.
A private journey — your party only, your dates, your pace. Best in spring and autumn; runnable in every season with the hours re-arranged.
A private journey, priced per person on twin share at the level below. Three hotel levels and two guiding levels are available on the same days — the daily plan does not change with the bed. Tell us your dates and we will send the itemised version, usually within one working day.
Small hotels, courtyard conversions and heritage properties we have stayed in ourselves, chosen for position and quiet rather than for a lobby. All licensed to receive foreign guests.
The days do not change with the bed. Comfort is our standard level; Signature steps up to design and heritage houses; Luxury is each destination’s best address, with a view to match.
Breakfast daily, taxes and service, twin or double as you prefer, and the bags taken up while you are out. Tell us about a hard bed, a soft pillow or a room away from the street — it goes to the hotel before you arrive.
Plenty of our travellers arrive with points or a favourite address. Point us at it, we plan the days around your door, and the accommodation comes out of your quote — nothing else about the journey changes.
China’s major sites run on real-name, timed entry booked against your passport, and the best-known ones cap visitors daily and release slots only days ahead. Once your dates are fixed we book the whole sequence, hold the confirmations, and re-check every one of them the week you travel — you bring the passport and walk past the queue.
Museums and palaces close one day a week (usually Monday); if your dates land on it, we re-order the days and tell you before you book, never after.
For spring and autumn dates, 60–90 days ahead is comfortable — the best houses and the timed slots both go early. Shorter notice? Ask anyway: we hold a small allotment in most cities and can usually move quickly.
This route sits inside a family of longer and shorter versions — ask us and we will send the alternatives side by side, with the days that would come out or go in, and what each one costs.
China runs across five climate zones, so the right months depend on the route rather than the country. Spring and autumn suit almost all of our journeys; the far west and the plateau we run later in spring and earlier in autumn.
Our days are built in short legs, broken every few hundred metres by something to see and something to sit down for. Where there are steps there are landings, and the vehicle is never further than the next gate.
Water and wipes ride in the car; a flask in cold months, shade and a long lunch in hot ones. Tell us about knees, hips and small legs in advance — the days bend around the answer, not the other way round.
Stone slabs, temple steps and long village lanes — broken-in walking shoes are the single best thing in the bag.
Mornings and afternoons differ by ten degrees or more across most of the year; a layer you can stash beats a coat you must carry.
A hat, sunglasses and a compact umbrella cover almost every day of the year.
Every timed entry is matched to it by name — carry it, and leave the queueing to us.
The vehicle carries the rest and meets you at every stop — pack for the morning, not for the day.
Refills ride on board, and hot water is what the country drinks — a thermos makes you local by day two.
Alipay or WeChat Pay set up before you land; we send a two-page guide with the booking. Cards work in hotels, cash almost nowhere.
Nothing starts before nine — no dawn calls, no rushed breakfast. We book each site's quietest slot instead, and let the day run at a civilised pace.
The porcelain capital in three days — the imperial kilns, the mountain its clay came from, and a cup you throw yourself.
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