While the guidebooks insist that the seething sprawl of humanity that is Las Ramblas is among the best sights Barcelona has to offer, you may quickly find yourself wearying of the spectacle. Especially if your hotel is just off Las Ramblas strip. Especially if, for example, you had any notion of actually meeting any Spanish people.

Does that sound churlish? Okay, it's true that Las Ramblas is fun in a frothy kind of way, particularly late at night when everyone mills around trying to find the only open sandwich shop; when diligently shady types sell cerveza from six-packs, one euro per can; when it's your turn in line at the walk-up window of the all-night pharmacy that dispenses valerian root or, if you insist, something a bit stronger, para dormir bien.

So, yes, it's fun. But Las Ramblas is not hip, chic, fresh, funky, groovy, cool or swell. Las Ramblas is not "That's hot!" If Las Ramblas were a woman, she'd be a hollaback girl.

Which is why you'll be happy to make your escape to the section of the La Ribera district that can convincingly cloak itself in all of the aforementioned adjectives: El Born. Happily, it's within walking distance of Las Ramblas. Some Barcelonans will try to convince you that El Born is "hidden Barcelona," as yet undiscovered by tourists. This is just a charming Barcelona custom known as "protecting the turf." Don't take it personally, even though, you know, the turf is being protected - from you.

Sure, sure, El Born - often spelled El Borne for reasons that have less to do with anything actually sanctioned by a dictionary than with some kind of Castellano/Catalán lingua-political standoff that you and I, honestly, just don't want any part of - is non-touristy. Like New York's Meatpacking District, only in-the-know locals ever visit.

But never mind that. The neighborhood has charms aplenty, starting with its central attraction, the Santa Maria del Mar Gothic church. Various tiny streets and alleys careen in and out of each other, all seeming to lead eventually back to the church. And somewhere within these streets is a perfect storm of calm, the Natura Born shop.

The shop is a bit like a South Beach lounge would be if you could buy furniture and T-shirts in one. Soothing Middle Eastern-tinged lounge music wafts over you as you walk in. The air is redolent with the aroma of some indefinably wonderful fragrance. In a small room just behind the main room is the source of the scent - a plethora of incense sticks, cones and candles imported from places like Japan and Thailand, along with crafted holders. Stone flooring, hardwood tables, bamboo stalks, and chairs and sofas with quilted fabrics invite shoppers to relax, and many of them do. No one is embarrassed to collapse in the beanbag chairs, or spend a few minutes lounging on one of the chaises.

The shop's three floors of softly lit rooms offer everything from peace-sign T-shirts to peace-inducing herbal teas. Scented candles, paper lanterns, chillout chairs, Buddha statues, Middle Eastern fabrics, string bulbs and stone fountains create a Zen atmosphere where, perversely, everything is for sale. It's the perfect shopping antidote to the frenzy that awaits you on the walk back to the hotel

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