If you think the harried shop shopkeepers of Barcelona are ignoring you just because you’re a tourist, you would be wrong (oh, all right, you might be wrong). Maybe it’s just that you don’t know the seemingly disorganized, fabulously efficient, time-honored rules for waiting your turn in Spain.

Queueing-related angst nearly ruined my recent summer pilgrimage to the rope-soled shoes mecca, La Manual Alpargatería, in Barcelona. The place normally dredges up issues for me, in a good way. I mean, do I really need the sexy, sparkly, red peep-toe espadrilles with the dark soles? And if not, what am I doing wrong? But just as I was getting into the groove of my crucial inner dialogue, an exasperated British voice knocked me off course: “Let’s just leave – they’re never going to wait on us.”

The owners at La Manual insist on doing certain things the old fashioned way. They know how to fit the uptown ladies in cheery, mid-heel monotones, the first communion candidates in custom beribboned flats, and the bohemian Barcelonins in plain black slip-ons. The whole scene is charming enough to have earned the shop attention in the New York Times and in Travel & Leisure magazine.

But their adherence to the traditional system of sorting out the eternal question, “who is next?” can mire unsuspecting out-of-towners in huffiness.

Not that I want La Manual to abandon its non-queue queues. The method, used in shops all over Spain, is superior, really, to standing in a rigid line. It allows you to browse the goods rather than the hairs on the back of the neck of the person ahead of you. And, without requiring real friendliness, it is much more politely sociable than the “take a number method” encroaching from the colder cultures. In short, it is a system worth saving and maybe even exporting.

Understanding the local technique requires letting go of the myth that Southern Europeans are too pushy to wait their turns. Doing it right starts with noticing the order in the chaos of the crowd. Here’s how it works:

1) As you walk into a crowded shop, you pause, look around at the crowd, and ask firmly:  “Quién es el último?” Or if you’re in Catalonia you might want to try out “Qui és l’últim?” Either way, your meaning will be clear – you’re asking, “Who is the last person in line?”

2) You’ll hear someone, somewhere in the crowd, say, matter-of-factly, “Yo.”  (I am.)

3) Make eye contact with that person, then keep an eye on him, even if he moves around the store in one direction and your browsing takes you in another.

4) Notice that the saleslady or counterman calls out occasionally, “Quién es?” or “Qui és?”  (Who is next?). Customers respond one by one, placing their orders in a, well, orderly way. They know it’s their turn when the person ahead of them has been waited on.  No matter where they are each standing.

5) Once the person ahead of you (figuratively if not literally) has been waited on, you need to be on your toes because when the next available salesperson asks, “Quién es?” it’s your turn to order.

6) Of course, during your waiting and browsing, you’ve also kept one corner of your mind focused on others entering the shop.  The person who enters after you will ask the usual question, “Quién es el último?” and you’ll be the one to answer, “Yo,” exchange glances, and know that person is keeping an eye on you.

As you drive into La Bisbal d’Empordà, your romantic image of what a historic pottery-making town ought to look like (quaint cottage workshops complete with artisans at the wheel) takes a withering blow. The place is dusty, for one thing — sitting on a great big expanse of clay since the dawn of time will do that do a town. But take it slow here and you will find enough artisanal pottery and good eats to make you forget the scruffiness and want to come back for more.

They’ve been busy churning out clay roofing and downspouts, bathroom tiles and kitchen crockery here for 300 years and have the factories to prove it. L’Aigueta, the old highway through the center of town, is lined with ceramics shops, some of them featuring wares more dubious than garden gnomes.

But, as I was saying, good things come to those who can resist the donkey’s gaze. For a look at traditional shapes and colors, I like El Rissec (C/L’Aigueta, 92-102). They’ve got some over-the-top flouncy stuff and odd imported goods, but they’ve also got everyday country pottery — pitchers, coffee cups, tagines, casseroles — in Catalonia’s traditional earthy golds and greens, creams and blues, and unadorned terracotta.

Vila Clara is the place to go for gorgeous unconventional colors. The gray-blue pieces at the top of this post are from there, as are the bright glazes in the photo below. Vila Clara has two shops, one with platters and bowls (C/ L’Aigueta, 56), the other at the other end of town (C/ Sis d’Octubre, 27) with dinnerware collections.

Rogenca d’Ullastret is my favorite. Proprietress Antonia Roig works in an open studio near the center of town (C/ Hospital, 2) most mornings, and is in her shop at no. 112 on L’Aigueta most afternoons. I go back for her Japanese-like tea sets, simple fountains, rock-shaped boxes — these are not traditional pieces but her forms are very organic and tactile, her colors more delicious than this picture conveys.

Walk across the bridge over the dry riverbed at the center of town and head into the old city on C/Cavallers for lunch. Two excellent places for a reasonable menú del día: Els Fogons (C/Cavallers, 22, tel: 972-645-165) and just across from it and a bit more stylish, La Cantonada (C/Bisbe, 6, tel: 972-643-413). Both are on the way to the Castle — oh, yeah, there’s an eleventh century castle on a square here, especially worth strolling through on a Friday, market day.

If you’re serious about your shopping, Artesans Ceramistes website offers glimpses (and whereabouts) of many local producers. If you want to go beyond shopping, there is an interesting Terracotta Museu in town, housed at a defunct tilemaking factory. Though it is currently closed for renovations, once it reopens tours will include a visit to Terrisseria Salamó, which still produces very traditional pieces. For the crafty, La Bisbal also has a well-regarded Escola de Ceràmica that offers short courses in summer for serious amateur artisans — ceramics, as well as sculpture, drawing, glass-blowing, and furniture making.

It’s tough to come home to a drab office after a vacation surrounded by Barcelona’s design vibe. Konema offers a fix you can take with you, from funny Spanish notebooks, to fancy German pens, or howabout a gorgeous Italian eraser? Also, they stock those locally made Slang bags (you can view the collection online, but Slang doesn’t sell retail on the web), reasonably priced non-leather urban handbags for men and women in great colors and shapes. Even if you’re not greedy for office stuff, check out the store’s changing Pantone-esque displays, like this all yellow window I saw last time I walked by:

Konema, Rambla de Catalunya, 43 (at Consell de Cent), Barcelona. Tel: 93-488-33-25. They don’t have a website.

Barcelona’s Boquería market is spectacular, but if the Boquería is the only market you see in this town, you’re missing out.

Every neighborhood in the city has its market. Some are beautiful (like the Mercat de Santa Caterina, above, with its fab new roof), most are amazingly well-stocked, and they are much friendlier to roam than the increasingly tourist-crowded stalls of the Boquería. Information on all the city’s markets can be found here.

Smaller shops, they tell a story, too, about what ingredients are most prized locally. There, you’re more likely to get the chance to chat with shopkeepers about their wares. Catalans can be a little taciturn, but ask for a culinary advice and you’ll likely find yourself snagging a recipe.

Here are some of my favorite food-oriented shops beyond the Boquería:

• Mercat de la Concepció (C/Aragó 313-317) down the street from Gaudí’s Casa Batlló. It’s a wrought-iron classic built in 1888 and beautifully integrated with a modern-day supermarket below.

• Mantequeria Can Ravell (C/Aragó 313) the Eixample neighborhood’s top cheese, cured meats, and luxury specialties purveyor. Taste at the marble table or feast in the restaurant upstairs.

• Cacao Sampaka (C/Consell de Cent 292). Albert Adrià, chef Ferran’s brother, offers wild flavors, but the chocolate here is Barcelona’s best. Research it yourself: at this Eixample location you can order a bonbon tasting.

• Formatgeria de la Seu (C/La Daguería 16), in the Barri Gotic, a tiny, artisanal-Spanish-only cheese shop run by Katherine McLaughlin a Scots ex-pat. Don’t miss her cheese ice creams.

• Herboristeria del Rei (C/Vidre 1, off Plaça Reial), has been a fine source for herbs, honeys, and saffron since 1860. Check out the marble fountain where they used to stock leeches.

• Casa del Bacalao (C/Comtal 8), sells top-quality house-salted cod including thick, white loin pieces, unlike any you’ll find in the U.S

• Vila Viniteca (C/Agullers 7, in the Ribera). Young owners have turned their family corner store into a trove of fabulously curated cheese, cured meat, and wine. There are regularly scheduled tastings.

• Targa Ferretería (Pla de Palau 5-6, in the Ribera), sells restaurant and retail cooking equipment including clay casseroles, oil pitchers, and paellas (translation: skillet, but also the pans used for paella) of every size.