Pottery in Morocco

How a Pottery Class in Morocco Taught Me Patience and Presence

By Elena Moretti
Hands in clay, mind in the moment—art beyond souvenirs.

The Unexpected Turn in Fez

I hadn’t planned on taking a pottery class in Morocco. I was in Fez for the medina, the leather tanneries, the mint tea, and the call to prayer echoing through golden alleyways. Pottery? That was supposed to be a filler activity, a way to kill a lazy afternoon between markets.

But the moment I stepped into the small ceramic studio tucked behind a carpet vendor in the Medina of Fez, I felt something shift. The air smelled of earth and glaze. Shelves lined the walls—filled not with polished souvenirs, but with imperfect, beautiful creations in every stage of becoming. Bowls with uneven rims. Vases with fingerprints still visible. There was something human about it all. And something that told me I wasn’t here by accident.

Meeting the Master: Silence, Dust, and Intentional Hands

The pottery master’s name was Idriss. He greeted me with a nod more than words. He wore an apron caked with years of clay. His hands were strong, calloused, and cracked with dried earth.

We didn’t talk much. He showed me the wheel, handed me a lump of clay, and waited. I placed my hands on the mound and felt instantly humbled. It wobbled. It collapsed. It became everything except a bowl.

Idriss didn’t scold or correct. He simply reset the clay and gestured again. Over and over, I tried. Over and over, the wheel spun like a quiet teacher, revealing how impatient I truly was.

It took an hour before I created something that resembled a small, uneven cup. I looked at it, cheeks smudged with clay, heart strangely full. I wasn’t proud of the shape—but I was proud of the effort.

The Gift of Slowness

There was something meditative about the process. The way the clay responded to the smallest movements. The need to be still—not in body, but in mind. If I thought too far ahead, the shape collapsed. If I worried about perfection, the form resisted.

I realized, standing in that quiet workshop, that I lived most of my life like a rushed traveler—always moving, always planning the next destination. Clay didn’t allow for that. It demanded presence. It demanded surrender.

In between turns at the wheel, Idriss and I shared mint tea. He still didn’t say much, but his nods and quiet smiles were enough. We spoke through the art—through shared silence and slow creation.

Art Beyond Souvenirs

By the end of the session, I had made two small bowls—wobbly, uneven, and utterly mine. Idriss wrapped them gently in paper and tied them with twine. “Pour toi,” he said. For you.

I left the studio with clay still under my nails and something new inside me. A kind of softness. A quiet. A respect for things that take time.

Those bowls now sit on my windowsill back home. One holds spare coins. The other holds dried lavender. They aren’t perfect. But they remind me of Morocco every time I see them—not because they are souvenirs, but because they are stories I shaped with my own two hands.

What Clay Can Teach You

There are places that teach you by overwhelming your senses—sights, smells, sounds. Morocco does that in abundance. But sometimes, it’s the quiet, hidden corners—the ones without tour groups or TripAdvisor reviews—that leave the deepest mark.

Pottery taught me more than how to mold clay. It taught me:

• To slow down.

• To let go of outcomes.

• To accept imperfection.

• To trust the process.

Most of all, it reminded me that travel isn’t about what you get, but what you become—and who you are when you stop rushing.

Shaping Something That Lasts

We often look for meaning in big gestures—sunrises on mountaintops, boat rides down rivers, grand architecture. But sometimes, meaning comes in a small, clay-covered studio. In quiet moments. In imperfect bowls.

If you ever find yourself in Fez with a free afternoon, take a pottery class. Get your hands dirty. Let the wheel spin. And let it show you what it showed me—that presence is the most beautiful thing you can create.

Have you ever had an unexpected travel moment that changed how you see yourself? Share your story or tag @AffordableJourney with #HandsInClay.