Doodleooodleooodleoodle Doolin!

So. Drumshanbo got me all depresso about small towns/villages. Doolin is lifting my head high again! The traditional music hotspot of the west coast, it's cheerful, got cute Swiss French guys working at the counter of the local music coffee shop that use their charm to get you spending more than you were planning to (okay, so there was only one of him, but man! What a cutie! And now I am the proud owner of Salsa Celtica, a crazy mix of salsa and celtic music that I never thought possible but LOVE! And I'll be heading to a concert tomorrow night featuring the fiddler from the group, plus an amazing harpest! Sweet!)

The hostel I'm in is fantastic, even though I've only been within its door for a total of about an hour... it's right on a little river, very rustic and homey, with an australian (?) owner who's smiling and helpful. Plus, it's over-run with french folks... so I got to flex the french windpipes both in the coffee shop and in the hostel room! (Seriously, I hear the familiar sounds and I'm drawn like a fly to fire...). I talked with a friendly German from frankfurt for a while in the hostel room, and a girl from Wisconsin. Somehow, my social juices have found an outlet with the omnipresent question 'where ya from?' and I need to figure out how to tweak it to stay social once I return to the states. But I can say that I'm super glad i picked small hostels for my alone-travels. They create the perfect crucible of conversation, if only you have the courage to light the first match...

okay, 20 minute limit here, so I'm off...

Live music in all the pubs tonight... the swiss coffee shop guy said we'd probably bump into each other later... which I kind of want... but Andrew, my irish contact, is coming in on friday, and I simply need to put a halt on my sometime unintentional flirting. What's become of me? (it's the accents...)

ciao!