Why being gluten-intolerant shouldn’t stop you travelling
I was sitting at my friend Morgan’s dinner table as her mum swiped through pictures of their family’s Turkish holiday. She reached an image of a bed tucked into a dark cave when Morgan interrupted to say she wished she could have gone. Holding her homemade, lactose-free, chai tea tightly with two hands, Morgan explained she was put off going as she is a celiac.
Morgan has known she is a celiac for a very long time and her knowledge on gluten-free food is second to none. When I learnt about my own gluten-intolerance one year earlier, this beautiful blonde haired lady became my google. She taught me which breads were best, showed me which cafes I could order an unaltered meal from and even made me apple pie when I was sad.
When Morgan continued to say a chunk of the world will be too difficult to travel to because of her autoimmune condition, I understood why she had these feelings, but I refused to accept them. For Morgan and I, travelling gluten-free isn’t just about finding a meal at a restaurant or risking a diet of carrots and grapes for a month. Travelling gluten-free is about the social restrictions that come with our condition – it is about the moments of anxiety when someone new prepares a meal, or that familiar feeling of rejection when we can’t dine with a new group of friends because a set menu is involved.
That night I drove down the quiet streets back to my home, sat on my bed and opened my laptop. I looked up every gluten-free travel hack I could find, from travelling with snacks to booking accommodation with a kitchen. I refused to believe living a gluten-free life would stop me from living my dream and exploring the world.
One year later I packed up my things and moved to London. I started planning trips throughout Europe. The one place I had read mixed reviews about online and was hesitant to visit was Italy. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the home of pizza and pasta. I knew I would find something in the city to eat, but I was terrified I would spend the entire time dragging my friend, Kat, around Rome and the Amalfi Coast searching for ‘suitable’ restaurants.
When we arrived at the Dreaming Rome Hostel we were greeted by the accommodation’s manager, Fabio. Wearing three quarter khaki pants and a loose top, his ruffled hair gave me I the impression he had rolled out of bed and into the pink hallway he used as a reception. He passed me a pink tumbler filled with sparkly wine. I took a sip. Fabio set a map on the counter and began frantically circling spots around the city. He let me know dinner was provided at his hostel. Fabio wanted to make sure his guests felt welcome and wanted to give us the chance to mingle.
It was 15 minutes until dinnertime when Fabio spotted me sliding out of the building as he took a smoke break. “Where are you going,” he jokingly demanded. “It’s dinner time soon. I made pasta.”
“Oh I’m so sorry but I’m gluten-intolerant, I was just going to pop to the shops to pick something up.”
“What? Why didn’t you say? I’ll just make you gluten-free pasta.”
I questioned him three times to make sure it wasn’t a hassle.
On the third “no, no of course not,” I felt the need to make things weird.
“Fabio, can I hug you? I feel the need to hug you right now,” I laughed, extending my arms towards him.
On our way back up the steps, he asked me what other food intolerances I had. That night I dined with five Americans and two guys from Chile while I ate the most decadent gluten-free, lactose-free, vegetarian penne I have ever had.
Fabio wasn’t the only Italian educated about gluten and its effects either. As we explored the Spanish Steps and threw our two cents into the Trevi Fountain, we saw restaurants on almost every corner advertising gluten-free meals. We soon learnt from word of mouth that every Italian child is tested for celiacs disease by age six.
Considering Italy’s reputation as the home of pizza and pasta, I was surprised by how well the country was structured to cater for celiacs and gluten intolerance. As soon as I said the phrase “Sanza Glutine,” waiters and waitresses confidently understood what I meant. My curiosity about gluten-free life in Italy also led me to discover each person over ten years old is given a monthly allowance of £140 to help pay for gluten-free food and extra holiday time to prepare meals.
With all the complications from living a gluten-free life, it is easy to put travelling in the too hard basket. However taking the risk, packing your bags and jumping on a plane can also be one of the most rewarding experiences. It can even mean you come home with some new recipes for the cookbook!
