I appologize for gramatical errors due to my own weakness and computer technical difficulties.

Jan 15 - Every year before Christmas my Grandma hosted a pyjama party for all us kids. The much anticipated event consisted of activities that my Grandma and Auntie Cheryl creatively came up with and a new pair of pyjamas to wear at the party. One year the creative juices were sparse so my Grandma threw in the Video cassette tape Heidi. Boring! Is what we thought as kids. Today as I walked through the mountains, Heidi was my imaginary Character. As we hopped off the Jeepney to walk the rest of the way up the mountain to where the nursing students were to host a hypertension teaching session I took the opportunity to breath deeply in the fresh mountain air. The people in the mountains live just like Heidi and her grandfather: living off the land, their means of transportation being their feet or an animal, and just as when Heidi’s Grandfather got sick health care is challenging to access. We are noticing that the nursing students in the community here really play a huge role in the care and education of the people as they go into the homes. At the end of the teaching session we assessed all the attendees’ blood pressures. As we had readings ranging from 160-230 systolic, we were all a bit concerned. Untreated hypertension is the reality here though, and with expensive medications all the students can do is educate and give the people strategies to decrease their pressures through lifestyle modifications. For me, just living on this mountain would decrease my blood pressure through the elimination of stress. Ah the simple life.
Heidi by day; midwife by afternoon. Chelsea and I got to assist in delivering dear little Marvin. I will let Chelsea elaborate on the experience though as she was the one to pull out the 3.2 kg baby boy. So stay tuned for that. The post natal care I will write about: when Marvin came out he had been lying on his cord so they had to cut the cord when he was only half way out as it was being compressed between mom and baby. Marvin was quite blue and quite flaccid. The midwife took him into the back room for suctioning as there had been meconium in the amniotic fluid that the baby may have aspirated. When we got into the room, the suctioning was not hooked up; no big deal. Everything was so relaxed; another midwife brought in suction tubing and got it hooked up while another midwife took a call on her cell phone. There were no apgars, no vital signs or other assessments done on baby. They clean the baby off first with baby oil and comb the tissue remnants out of its hair followed by a full bath with warm water and ivory soap that the family has brought (the family provides most of the materials needed for the birth). This was a bit shocking as we usually use only water on babies in Canada and try not to immerse the umbilical cord. They also clamp and dress the umbilical cords which we leave open to air. Erythromycin and Vitamin K are given the same. The baby is then wrapped with arms at its sides and legs straight like a mummy. Mom is briefly shown the baby and then it is put in a crib. In Canada mom usually feeds right away both for bonding and to replenish the babies glucose. Here there was very little interaction between mom and baby. Although many things were done differently than what we do in Canada, I would trust these midwifes with my birthing process in an instant. They know their stuff.

Jan 16 – This morning we participated in an aerobics session led by the next Richard Simmons (only Filipino). The session was to encourage physical activity to reduce the risk of hypertension. We were once again met by the Filipino hospitality as the young boys climbed the backyard coconut trees to retrieve coconuts for our consumption. Chelsea and Troy attempted to help but never managed to climb past their own height. The children remain to gawk at us upon exposure but in good time they realize that we are a friendly sort. You know you are foreign though when even the babies stop blinking. Here, I also finally got my basketball fill. We have been passing small dirt courts dispersed within our travels and I have been longing to play. We took on some of the guys playing on the small court; despite their classic street ball moves we took it 5:4. It was not due skill though but I think more to the unobjected rules we broke.
In the afternoon while waiting for the Nutrifair to start, we went to a nearby cockfight that was taking place. This particular cockfight was to raise money for a family in mourning as tradition. The owners of the roosters pay a fee to the mourning family in order to participate. Then people come to gamble on the roosters, if the rooster wins the owner gets a portion of the bet put on his rooster and gets to eat the enemy bird has supper. I guess we stood out being women and white because they cleared a portion of the front row inside the pit for us when we arrived. We sat down and all the men around us started yelling out bets and cheering. Then the fight begins. They start by allowing the roosters to peck each other to get them all rattled up. Then the cover off the sharp and shimmering blade tied to the right leg of each rooster is taken off (it feels like you can actually hear the shing of the blade as the cover is being taken off). Now they are left to defend their territory. Morgan and I held each other in the front row and cringed as they flocked at each other and blood began to be shed. And then with a blink of an eye the roosters were slamming against the boards in front of us squirting blood onto out scrubs. I think we were probably close to as entertaining as the actual fight. The man beside me was kind enough to let me know I also had a streak of blood on my cheek. I think I know why we were the only women in the crowd.
The last thing we did in San Juan was a Nutrifair. Here they taught the women how to cook nutritiously and affordably. Families who have been found as malnourished were invited to attend. We even got to taste the example dishes that they taught the women how to make; delicious. We are even bringing the recipes home with us. The chicken intestines that they bought for us to try however were only tasted by Troy and will not be adopted by us. As the children at the Nutrifair called out bye Auntie Kristinn, I find it hard to think that I may never be in this community again. Or maybe these memories will give me a reason to return. We really got a taste of how the people live here through this experience.