Photo by arash payam on Unsplash

The pursuit of unhappiness, especially your own. Please kindly don’t show up at my house. But wait, there’s more.

During some research for another article, I came across a bit of intriguing information about a rather little-known psychiatric disorder that might explain some of what I’m seeing on Medium and elsewhere.

The disorder is called Cherophobia, which is when a person has an irrational aversion to being happy.

From this website:

The term comes from the Greek word “chero,” which means “to rejoice.” When a person experiences cherophobia, they’re often afraid to participate in activities that many would characterize as fun, or of being happy.

Based on many of the titles I see, some of the articles I start…

Photo by steve wafula on Unsplash

The collection grows: a few of the horsewomen I have come to admire.

Anja’s horse found another gear, leaving the two of us, Anke and me, far behind. I urged my big sleek bay to gallop harder up the hill. He’s a show horse, not a polo pony. While he obliged, Anja continued to leave us behind in the African dust. Still, the clamber up the hillside was breathtaking.

We were in the final hour of a half-day ride out of Malo Stables, a grand and beautiful spot nestled in the fabled Karen quarter of old Nairobi. There the great…

Photo by Pascal Meier on Unsplash

At the end of it is one hard damned stop.

While it’s been a while, I’m a sometime pilot. I once held an ultralight license in Australia. I have done my time flying left seat and right seat. That’s why, in 2014, when I flew into ​Tenzing-Hillary Airport, Nepal to do the Everest Base Camp hike, unlike my fellow passengers, I sat right behind the pilot to watch the landing on the world’s most dangerous airport.

The Tenzing-Hillary Airport in Nepal, also known as Lukla Airport, is one of the world’s most dangerous airports. …

Samuel Clara for Unsplash

Silver, that is. This is worth reading. I don’t care how old you are.

Shani Silver is funny, but she’s also smart and wondrously crude and rude and forthright and in your face about being single, dating and owning your shit as a single woman. Which are all reasons I love her stuff. Today, as I sit for a rest day at the Golden Tulip Hotel in busy downtown Nairobi, with a half day of VERY badass horse riding set up for tomorrow (yes, hate me, please, then buy a damned ticket yourself), I read this from her:

As a Boomer I had to laugh at the sideswipe about unhelpful financial advice from my…

Photo by Ben Preater on Unsplash

Okay, okay, so I’m not Angela Bassett.

A reminder to Dear Reader that I still do not have access to my photos,and you are asked to be patient. My Chromebook faces imminent retirement the moment we scrape it clean. That scream you may hear emanating from Eugene, Oregon may well be the death rattle as my Chromebook is launched out my second story window. Just saying.

You can tell. I’m an aging broad who happens to do adventure travel. …

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

What I am learning about Americans and the world from my hotel in Africa.

Pasqual, who is Belgian, was half-slumping on the comfy couch across the table from me. He’s a tall, lean man, likely in his forties. His face sports a salt and pepper beard. He’d just finished Kilimanjaro. We were comparing notes.

I’d done it eight years ago. He told me that it was much harder than Aconcagua, which is 22,837 feet and the dominant peak in South America. There, he said, the long ascent period of two weeks had allowed the slow and steady acclimatization which made the thin air far more breathable. …

Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash

I wish I had better news. But it’s just life.

Back in April I penned a story about a wren who had slammed itself into my window, a fact that is distressingly common, especially in large building windows. That may be true, but this was my house, my little wren, and I was determined to do what I could to give it a shot.

Here’s what I wrote:

About 9 am I noticed a wren sitting on my deck. It had clearly collided with my big picture window. I scooped it up gently, its addled brain barely able to acknowledge that some great huge thing had taken it from its…

Photo by DDP on Unsplash

Okay, look. My mother got cremated in 2001, and she is now in an urn. What’s left of her. But she isn’t done with me.

I’ll bet you can relate, too, you women over sixty, over seventy.

This morning when I woke up at the Stella Maris Hotel here in Tanzania with the rain pounding on the metal roof outside. The big bus ready for Kili climbers would roll out in a few hours, without me in it, as I’m not ready for a return trip as yet.

However, my mother was indeed with me, at least once I got my teeth in. So there she was, staring back at me.

I nearly shit myself. Then I laughed my mother’s laugh, that body-shaking, full-throated laugh…

Photo by Dan Gold on Unsplash

Even Teddy got frustrated with me. I am so sorry.

Okay, so at least I am not the tourist who was SO OFFENDED that the server put a sausage on her plate by mistake that she sent the entire plate back to the kitchen with MUCH LOUD COMPLAINING THAT SHE CAN’T TOUCH THE PLATE OMIGOD IT HAD MEAT ON IT.

Will you just grow up please.

That said, Sigh.

Teddy is a fabulous, lovely, gorgeous Tanzanian woman, her big, beautiful soft brown body only matched by her effervescence and great love of her guests here at the Stella Maris Hotel. …

Julia E Hubbel

Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store