A Travel Blogger’s Unexpected Journey to Keeping Kosher

My hobby has always been traveling. I love exploring Israel and the rest of the world, and over time, that passion became a profession as well. I became a travel blogger, traveling across the globe, documenting my trips, sharing experiences, impressions, and tips, and, above all, recommending high-quality itineraries that leave travelers with wonderful memories.

It became what I called my “professional hobby.” I worked a regular job while traveling whenever I could.

I grew up in a completely secular home, with virtually no knowledge or understanding of Judaism. My father would make me a non-kosher sandwich for school, and it never even occurred to any of us that there might be something wrong with that.

That was my life until I met my wife.

My wife came from a traditional home where Judaism held an important place. It was a warm home with deep respect for religion. She was the first person in my life to introduce me to basic Jewish concepts that even a very young child in a religious home would already know.

One of my wife’s conditions was keeping kosher. She was not religious herself, but she made it clear that everything in our home had to be kosher.

I agreed immediately. I didn’t see it as a big deal.

It was simple: At home, only kosher food. Outside the house, I was free to do whatever I wanted.

And that was how we lived. We had children, and they grew up. Only food with kosher certification entered our home, while outside, I ate whatever I felt like eating.

“Live and let live” was my motto.

Something Slowly Began to Change

There is no single moment I can point to and say, “This is where it started.” Little by little, however, I began feeling more connected to Judaism.

It happened very gradually.

I started helping colleagues at work make a minyan. I began asking my wife about Jewish concepts. What exactly was this book called Tehillim? I even started asking her to pray for me.

My righteous wife made a point of saying a chapter of Tehillim every day. The first time I asked her to pray for me, her eyes widened. She could hardly believe those words were coming out of my mouth.

But yes, something was changing. Slowly, I was beginning to warm up to Judaism.

Then came Simchat Torah 5784.

Our lives were turned upside down. The lives of everyone in Israel, and Jews far beyond it, changed as well. It felt as though we had no one to rely on.

A powerful sense of faith began stirring in the hearts of so many Jews, even those who knew next to nothing about Judaism, like me.

For me, it was an enormous push.

For the first time, I turned to my wife and asked if we could make Kiddush at home. I asked her to prepare Shabbat meals the way her family had when she was growing up. From then on, I made sure we did it every Shabbat.

For me, it became like air to breathe.

At the same time, I noticed that my second son had begun taking on different Jewish practices and mitzvot. He started making blessings over food and putting on a kippah when he made a blessing.

Oddly enough, my oldest son showed no signs of changing and continued living as he always had.

One day, we were out together, and my oldest son went to buy some non-kosher food. Until then, it would not have bothered me. But my second son became deeply upset.

“How can you eat non-kosher food?” he demanded.

His reaction came from the depths of his heart, and something about it shook me too. Suddenly, I felt that I could no longer accept it either.

I gently asked my oldest son to throw the food away and told him I would give him money to buy something else from a kosher place. He agreed.

At that moment, I realized that something new had been born inside me.

From then on, I made sure to eat only kosher food, even outside the house. I can’t say it was easy, but it was powerful.

Around that time, reports began circulating about the hostages being held in Gaza. One of the stories concerned soldier Agam Berger, who reportedly insisted on keeping kosher even while in captivity under unimaginably harsh conditions.

I knew Agam came from a secular home, and her story deeply moved me. It touched precisely the part of me that was still so new and fragile.

I thought: If she can do this under those circumstances, then there must be something here far deeper than my superficial understanding. There was a depth and power to what it meant to be Jewish that I was only beginning to discover.

Her story strengthened me tremendously and gave me support in my own commitment to keeping kosher.

Returning to Travel After October 7

At the beginning of the war, Israel’s skies were filled mainly with fighter jets and cargo planes, along with emergency flights for people stranded abroad trying to find their way home.

Traveling for pleasure was hardly something anyone could imagine. Everyone was focused on surviving the horror and chaos.

Over time, the clouds began to clear somewhat. We entered a kind of routine, a terrible routine, but a routine nonetheless. Civilian flights gradually returned, and people began looking for places to go. Some wanted to recharge and explore our beautiful country. Others needed a little distance from the war raging within it.

I also wanted to return to traveling. I began looking for new destinations that would give me a change of scenery while allowing me to update and revive my travel blog, whose activity had plummeted after the war began.

Amit, a friend who loves traveling as much as I do, suggested that I buy last-minute tickets to Greece. Someone had canceled them, and they were being sold at a significant discount.

He told me about interesting places there that I had never had the opportunity to visit, and I was intrigued.

I decided to go.

My friend equipped me with his maps, complete with notes, directions, and recommendations. He also connected me with one of his colleagues, a Chinese man named Cho, who happened to be visiting Greece on exactly the same dates.

It was perfect networking.

I set out, took a deep breath, and tried to overcome the heaviness that had remained with me since the war began.

From above, our precious land looked more promised than ever. Everyone had their eyes on it, yet it held tightly to its roots.

When I arrived in Greece, I went straight to work. I used every free moment to fit in as much as possible, both traveling and writing about what I discovered.

That was also where I met Cho, a travel blogger and international guide with extensive knowledge of destinations in several countries. I learned a great deal from him.

On my final day before flying home, Cho came to my hotel. We sat together and reviewed all the material we had gathered. At some point, he suggested that we go eat together.

The timing was perfect. I was starving.

We began walking toward the hotel counter to order food when I suddenly remembered something: I had decided not to eat non-kosher food.

For a moment, a battle raged inside me.

And I lost.

I decided to ignore my commitment. I found an excuse for myself: Maybe keeping kosher only applied in Israel. Abroad was different, I told myself.

Besides, I was ravenously hungry.

I approached the hotel clerk to place our order and chose a non-kosher dish.

The clerk took off her glasses, looked closely at me, and asked directly, “You’re Jewish, right?”

“Yes,” I answered, having no idea where this was going.

“But you’re not allowed to eat that!” she exclaimed.

I was stunned.

A Greek woman who wasn’t Jewish was lecturing me about keeping kosher?

I laughed awkwardly, but she refused to let it go.

“Don’t order it,” she urged me. “Choose something else.”

I was embarrassed. Cho asked what was happening.

“He’s Jewish,” the clerk explained. “He’s not allowed to choose that dish.”

Cho looked at me.

“Why?”

I was speechless.

How was I supposed to explain religion, Judaism, and Torah to a Chinese man when these were concepts I myself was only beginning to understand?

I stammered something about it being written in the Torah, but the clerk did not let me off the hook. She explained to him that the Bible prohibited Jews from eating it.

He nodded, and I thought I saw a flash of respect in his eyes.

I was the only one who felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Then choose something else, my friend,” Cho suggested. He assumed that because he had ordered the dish, I had simply followed his lead.

The yetzer hara inside me was fighting desperately.

And still, I refused to give in. I insisted on ordering the same dish.

Its taste tempted me so much that I felt I simply had to eat it, right then and there.

Rachmana litzlan.

The food arrived. I ate it and pushed the entire incident out of my mind.

After the meal, Cho and I parted as friends and promised to stay in touch and work together in the future.

I gathered my things and headed to the airport.

The Flight Home Changed Everything

Already on the way to the airport, I felt something turning inside my stomach.

I boarded the plane and tried to ignore it.

Then, somewhere between heaven and earth, I became violently ill.

I could not stop vomiting. I barely remember getting off the plane. I fainted and eventually arrived at the hospital in terrible pain, vomiting nonstop.

The doctors could do little besides give me IV fluids. They could not identify a clear cause for my condition.

It was awful.

There were moments when I genuinely thought I might not make it out alive. I remained hospitalized for five days, suffering from severe pain and constant vomiting.

For years, I had traveled abroad and eaten whatever I wanted. This was not even the first time I had eaten that particular type of meat.

But this time, something troubled me.

It felt different. Too strange.

When I finally recovered, I called Cho. I needed to understand what had happened.

Cho was happy to hear from me, but when I asked whether he had become sick, he had no idea what I was talking about.

“The food was excellent,” he told me. “I feel great.”

That was when I understood.

I felt that Someone Above had shaken me thoroughly.

To me, it felt as though Hashem was saying: “Listen carefully. From the moment you stepped onto this path, there is no turning back. Your soul can no longer contain this impurity.”

I understood the message.

From that day on, I decided to eat only kosher.

But this time, for real.