Greenwich Village

The Village. Of New York. Former hub of creatives, hippies and 
crazy poor people. Oh and slaves and immigrants prior to that.
I took a tour today with a friend and I discovered gems of
stories about one of the most gorgeous neighbourhooods of the
island. Lots of old, red-brick buildings, old restaurants and
eateries, funky independent businesses, new clubs. 
Our guide was a portly man with a large, genuine
smile who seemed to have lived, worked and fought for the 
Village forever. There was something about him that made
him ageless. Maybe his easy familiarity with every worker
in every place we saw and every inch of space. Maybe his 
knowledge. The downside of this wonderful tour, which
advertised itself as a food and cultural tour and ended up
being more cultural than foodie, was that it was freezing like
a muther and from the moment I could not feel half of my feet
I couldn't really care that much about real estate, Prohibition
the way the immigrants kept their turf clean (apparently if
you were Irish and stupid enough to pass through the Italian
section, a bunch of fellows would pick you up and throw you
in the basement burner of an industrial laundromat on W
Houston).
My favorite stops were the Palma restaurant behind which there
is a remnant of an old farm (old as in 150 years ago). At the back
of the restaurant there is a small building that used to be
inhabited by servants long time ago and its first floor was kept
pristinely close to its 1850's design. The atmosphere was
amazing. It was as if someone captured time and placed it in
this room for eternity. Everyone in the tour was speechless with
enchantment. I felt like I was visiting my grandmother's house,
although they look nothing alike.
A shop where any scent/fragrance maniac should go is Aphrodesia,
a specialty store full of exotic and hard-to-get-by herbs and potions.
Another little magic world that was guarded by two lovely grey
cats with green eyes. Very nice and friendly unlike any other cats
I've seen. Seriously. Go. There. Now.
The most vigurous trip in the woods was by Chumley's, est. 1922
and a speakeasy spot during Prohibition. Famous writers, such as
Steinbeck, Hemingway, O'Neill made their rounds here and some
still have left huge tabs unpaid.
All in all, the tour was great -less the cold, and I felt really really
bad when my friend pointed out to me she had no cash to give as
tip. I had no idea that tour guides get tips and I was out of
cash as well. And the worst part was that the guide was so good,
so nice, so funny and an old man. How can I not feel bad for
not tipping?? He seemed to be floating in legend and to be pulling
us in with him. He deserves more than a lousy salary and a thank
you and I didn't even tip him. I hope he thinks I didn't do it cause
I am a foreigner and I know no better (it's a well-known fact in
the New York service industry that foreigners/tourists don't tip
well or at all) not because I was a cheap/unprepared/uncaring
whore.
PS: Dragonfly restaurant has amazing Beer Battered
Portobello Mushrooms in horseradish sauce. Excellent! 
PPS: Joe's Pizza is very good as well.