I have always wanted to sit in front of those spinning clay machines and make myself a hoo-loo, an S-shaped water jug used by the Chinese (that’s my kind of people, except you can’t get those in America).

I got the chance today. After a day of playing in the water under the bright sun, building dams out of rocks, making rivers, controlling the “go” of the “flow”, we went back to Xi’an.

From there, we proceeded to go to a clay modeling place. The clay modeling place contained about ten or so spinning machines, and a few tables for modeling people, animals, etc. Basically anything that couldn’t be made when it was spinning.

Quickly, I grabbed a machine. A worker brought me clay. He took it and whack! slammed it onto the spinning machine. Then he helped me get it into a solid upside-down-U shape.

Then I began to mold.

I took my hands and squeezed. A tower began to form. I smiled just about half a millisecond before it collapsed. A worker got me a new piece of clay, because as I later learned, the same piece couldn’t be used more than once.

This time, I poked a hole with my thumb first, wanting to make a hole, thereby qualifying it as a jug. Suddenly, the top part came off and I found myself holding a O-shaped piece of clay. A worker got me a new piece of clay.

I squeezed gently, but not enough. The piece of clay came off. As I knew, if a piece of clay came off, that meant that the piece was not touching the spinning machine, thereby making my holding it useless. I stopped the machine and affixed it back on. I pressed the power pedal, and the machine began to spin.

The piece of clay I attached was not dead center. The piece flew outward and landed on the side of the machine.

About now, a worker paid a visit to me.

“Now, pal, what’s your problem? Used three pieces of clay, already, you did. Let me tell you how it’s done. Now first, you squeeze gently. You squeeze hard and the whole thing just pops off. So, you gonna squeeze gently, and you got to get your hands wet. So that’s why there’s a bucket in front of you.”

He continued, “So, you gonna dip every time you feel the clay isn’t gliding over your hands, like a bird. Now, you gonna squeeze. And you want a jug? Well, you gonna gently stick your thumb in, and you gonna do that in the center.”

Pausing for a breath, he licked his lips, then said, “You want to do it gently. And you wanna make your hands wet, but not too wet. If your clay piece is too wet, the thing gonna collapse. Then, what you gonna do then? If you wanna make a pancake, it don’t matter. But if you’re going to make some thing nice and tall, that’s gonna be a bit too wet.”

I weakly smiled. The worker molded it into a flat shape and left.

Nice and smooth, I told myself. Working up, I slowly and carefully molded. Gaining confidence, I began to squeeze.

The next thing that happened was saddening to describe. The whole mud piece came off, the bottom fell off, leaving me with a O. The part that fell off was off-center. Physics took over. The part that fell off was thrown at me. Thankfully, I wore an apron.

I sighed. The worker came again, cleaned off the spinning board, and was about to give me a new peice when I shook my head. I went to the restroom, washed off my hands, shouted at someone I thought was my dad, and eventually found my family.

“It’s impossible!” I shouted at them. My dad patted my back.

“Don’t worry! I’ll go do one with you.” he said, and grabbed my hand.

So in a few minutes, I was once again sitting in front of a spinning machine. My dad was at my side. He carefully explained everything I already knew. He expertly told me everything I learned from the worker.

Then, annoyed as I was, I began to mold.

After a while, I shot out of my misty state. I was actually molding something! Smiling, I shaped and I curved and I squeezed and I smooshed and I controlled the piece of clay.

So, after about ten minutes, the worker scraped off my masterpeice, a hoo-loo.

It is really impossible to stay grumpy when you want to be happy.