A Day at the Chiropractor

I spent the morning reading my Persian Pilgrimages book before going to Aunt Minoo’s house for lunch. Grandmother and Aunt Mahin, another of my Dad’s sisters, had arrived from Mashhad. I spent some time catching up with them. Aunt Mahin had a stroke years ago and now walks with a limp dragging her left foot. We talked about her children, my cousins, in Mashhad. All four of her kids are now married, and she has three grandchildren to date. I then went downstairs to the coffee net and checked my email with Samira. Internet time has been more scarce lately as invitations to see family and old friends has increased.

After taking a nap, we went back to Aunt Farzaneh’s house to get ready to see another family friend. We all piled in to Mr. Moshiri’s car with the intention of going to Dr. Jafari’s clinic first. Dr. Reza Jafari is a Chiropractor in Tehran that Aunt Farzaneh had made contact with for me. I had gotten his information from the internet and a Chiropractor in Houston. He was the head of the Iranian Chiropractic Association, and was one of a few instrumental in establishing the scope of practice for Chiropractors in Iran. Realizing that there was too much traffic and that I was going in a different direction than my parents, we dropped them off to take a cab to their friend’s house, and Mr. Moshiri took me to Dr. Jafari’s office.

His office was probably about 1000 square feet with four exam rooms and a waiting area carved out of it. His receptionist greeted us and asked us to wait in the waiting area. Dr. Jafari’s office was on the first floor of a medical office building, which is the usual setup for healthcare professionals. After seeing a couple more patients and about 8 pm, Dr. Jafari invited me back into his office, which also served as his examination room. He allowed me to sit in on his last two new patients, and then we had a chance to talk. We talked about everything dealing with chiropractic in Iran. There are about 40 Chiropractors in the country with about 30 of them being in Tehran.

They are pretty much all extremely successful. Dr. Jafari had seen 100 patients this before I got there. Right now, visits are about $7 as set by the Iranian Chiropractic Association so as to get people used to going to the Chiropractor. Dr. Jafari said that they will eventually increase the cost of visits. Even still, they are still making a lot of money because overhead is much lower here. My aunt and I calculated the monthly overhead, and he probably meets it in his first two full days every month. Equipment is easy to come by too. The adjusting table and spinalator that he brought from the U.S. have been recreated by a local welder at 1/3 the cost. This guy is now the adjusting table expert in Iran!

Perusing his office, I realized that Dr. Jafari was a 1990 graduate of Texas Chiropractic College, my Alma Mater. We talked about TCC and professors we had in common. After spending two hours talking, I realized that Dr. Jafari had been in his practice for 14 hours, and it was time to say goodbye. He graciously gave me his card and wrote is home phone number and cell phone number on the back. It’s good to see that the brotherhood amongst Chiropractors knows no geographic boundary. Mr. Moshiri then took me to Dr. Shahla’s house. She is a dentist who lives uptown and has been a family friend for almost 30 years. Her house was one of the few that have remained the same since my last visit 20 years ago. As soon as we got to their street, I was able to pick her house out.

It was the one that was eight stories tall with a red roof, dug out of the side of a mountain as were the rest of the houses in this area. We went to their unit, and the inside was exactly as I remembered it too. After eating dinner, we reminisced about my last visit, and Dr. Shahla reminded me that I had gotten up and given some speech about wanting to be a Neurologist and the President. I told her that nothing had changed! Looking out over the city from her balcony, I realized that there was a lot more housing in this area than there was 20 years ago. Her house used to be in the middle of nowhere, and now it was surrounded by other houses and high rise apartments. After saying our goodbyes, we headed back home for the evening.

A Day Shopping

Today we went to some shopping areas to find some souvenirs and handcrafts. Mr. Moshiri, as usual, had the burden of picking us up and driving us around the city. Mr. Moshiri is an old family friend that has pretty much put his whole life at my family’s disposal here in Iran. Just before the revolution, my aunts and grandmother needed a place to live. This man took them in and gave them the first floor of his tiny house for the next 10 or 12 years, until my grandmother passed away. My aunts then moved to nearby Karaj, where they had already bought a house but had not moved due to its distance from my Grandmother’s doctors.

We did some of our shopping on a strip that was entirely bookstores. I went into one that had a variety of medical books and, to my amazement, even found one Chiropractic book on the shelf, despite the fact that there are only 40 Chiropractors in the whole country. Another bookstore had the maps that I was looking for. I bought a map of Tehran, a key map of Tehran, and two maps of Iran. Finally, I was able to get oriented to my surroundings and start learning out the layout of the city. Tehran is a web of roads and highways that have absolutely no rhyme or reason. City planning seems nonexistent.

Most of our shopping was conducted at an area called Ferdowsi Circle. A lot of the intersections in Iran still take this shape – a roundabout that every direction feed into and you drive around counterclockwise until you get to the road you want to turn on. Ferdowsi is one of the most important figures in Iranian history. He was a poet of note (Persians a noted for their poetry and pay much homage to their poets) whose pinnacle was an epic poem called Shahnameh, or Book of Kings. This poem weaves tales about Persian kings and mythical beasts, much like the epics of Homer. This particular circle bears his statue.

Down a little ways was a rug bazaar. This was an extremely ornate building that housed a number of rug merchants. Most of these rugs were handmade in various regions of Iran. Each region has a particular style that is easy to identify by the trained eye. The quality of the work is determined by the intricacy and variety of the pattern, the fabric used (wool is relatively cheap, silk is expensive), the resolution of the weave (number of rows per inch), and the region where the rug was woven. Persian rugs are known the world over and are extremely expensive. In the U.S., they are sometimes sold under the guise of Oriental rugs due to the bad stigma that Iran has received in recent decades. A six square meter handmade rug could cost $2000 and up. Every rug is absolutely unique. Finding matching rugs make them even more expensive. This means that two weavers have to sit side by side, with one calling out the thread color to the other as each knot is tied. There was one small rug portraying the ancient city of Persepolis that I wanted to get, but I decided to wait and look at other rugs first.

The handcrafts down the way were absolutely beautiful. We ducked in and out of shops that had chess and backgammon boards (both favorite Iranian pastimes), beautifully glazed decorative dishes, fabrics, woodwork, hookahs, and decorative swords. There was a beautiful woodworked replica of DaVinci’s Last Supper in one shop. Stepping out of one of the shops, I realized I was standing across the street from the former U.S. Embassy. This is the site where a few Iranians had held dozens of U.S. diplomats hostage for over a year in 1979. Occurring soon after the Revolution of 1978, this officially severed diplomatic ties between Iran and the U.S., which remain nonexistent to this day. The walls of this compound now have anti-Western slogans and other propaganda all over them. The only remaining sign of the past is the stone seal of the United States (the eagle thing of the back of our money) set in brick at the entrance to the compound.

After looking around for a few hours, the shops started closing for lunch. Everything is so laid back here. The city practically closes down for 2 to 3 hours in the middle of the day, and shop owners and workers go home to enjoy lunch with their families and take a nap. So we decided to do the same. After lunch, we got ready to go see my cousin Pejman from Houston who is getting married in a few days. Dr. Rohani, my cousin Shahin’s father-in-law, had thrown a party for the new bride and groom. This was one in a series of parties that various family members have been throwing for the bride and groom.

Dr. Rohani lives in the penthouse suite of a 17-story high rise apartment. When we drove up to this building, I had almost forgotten that we were in Iran. It was absolutely gorgeous. The whole North side of Tehran is undergoing massive residential construction. Houses are being carved into the face of the mountain and are going up from there. Luxury high rise apartments are becoming more commonplace. Dr. Rohani is the number one cardiac surgeon in the country. He had reserved the ballroom in the lobby of his building for the party. Entering the room, it was refreshing to see familiar faces. My relatives from Houston were all there. There was also many extended members of the family there – second cousins, their in-laws, and the new bride’s family as well. As all the cousins on my Dad’s side of the family are getting married, our family is growing rapidly.

They had hired a DJ to provide the entertainment for the evening who played the latest Persian pop music straight from Los Angeles. Waiters were floating around the room serving hors d’oeuvres and tea. I had a chance to catch up with my cousins from Houston. Everyone was dancing on the dance floor in the middle of the room. A lavish six entrée dinner was awaiting us across the hall. The meal was excellent. This was all followed by desert and more dancing. Amidst all the entertainment, I had two aunts, family friends, and new extended relatives enquiring about my relationship status and trying to hook me up with someone right there at the party. Deciding there was too much risk of uniting forks in the family tree at this party, I generously declined their offers and took the risk of being single for at least one more night. However, I now have about 8 to 10 people actively trying to get me hitched. Oh well. So is life…