No matter where you go in the world— whether it’s the jungles of South America, the mountains of Asia, or the deserts of Africa—there’s a good chance you’ll run into Israelis. You’ll spot them with their “Shoresh sandals”, a sizzling shakshuka cooking in the hostel kitchen, and a 70-liter backpack that somehow contains their entire life. Ask them why they’re traveling, and most will respond:
“What do you mean? It’s my post-military trip, of course!”
I had a plan for that kind of journey too. Part of it hiking the Israel National Trail, and the rest exploring Asia. I started the trail during Sukkot 2023 and managed to hike about 100 kilometers before heading home for Simchat Torah—October 7th. The trail was left unfinished, and so was the flight to Asia. But In Israel, the “post-military trip” isn’t just tradition, it's a cultural rite of passage. So before beginning my current role abroad, I managed to squeeze in one short month in India. When I arrived in Nashville, I came with one clear promise to myself:
After this mission, I’m flying to finish my “post-military trip” without a time limit!
The rise in Israeli backpackers began in the 1970s and 80s, as a form of recovery from national trauma—wars like Yom Kippur, Lebanon, and the First Intifada. As second-generation children of Holocaust survivors and immigrants from North Africa gained more economic stability, young people suddenly had the resources—and the emotional need—to travel.
In a generation where “self-discovery” is practically a job title, the Israeli version is shaped by something unique:
Three years of rigid hierarchy, schedules, uniforms, and discipline. When it’s over, what most crave isn’t just rest—it’s absolute freedom.
To wake up whenever, go wherever, and choose whatever.
You decide who you travel with—often people you’d never meet in “real life.” When everyone’s a stranger, connections happen fast. And sometimes, you choose to walk alone and it’s often the first real encounter with yourself, far from home, expectations, and pressure of others.
Many Israelis abroad tend to cluster in “Israeli” hostels. Some places feel like little embassies, complete with Hebrew signs, hummus for breakfast, and Chabad houses to keep tradition alive.
Before flying to India, I asked myself: How can you recognize an Israeli so fast? We come in all shapes, colors, and backgrounds.
And then… I landed.
It took one glance to know who was Israeli—by the clothing, body language, and yes… the volume and friendliness too.
One of the most popular experiences is hiking the Israel National Trail—a 1,088 km trek from Mount Hermon in the north to the shores of the Red Sea in the south. It takes about two to three months and offers not only nature, but a microcosm of Israeli society.
One of the trail’s most special features is the “Trail Angels”—locals who open their homes to exhausted hikers, offering a warm shower, a place to rest, and often a heartfelt conversation. You meet fellow travelers and walk together for a day, a week, or more.
In just five days on the trail, I crossed paths with:
A recent immigrant from the U.S. who made Aliya, former special forces soldiers, two backpackers from Germany, and a handful of Israelis —each carrying not just gear but stories. And somehow, kilometer by kilometer, those stories begin to unfold.
And in the end, that’s what this journey is really about. Not just the landscapes, the hostels, or the stamps in your passport. It’s the shift that happens inside. When your heavy, wrinkled backpack becomes a symbol of what you’ve let go of—and what you’ve picked up along the way. When strangers become companions, you learn to live with less, and appreciate more. You become fluent in patience and wonder. You discover cultures that challenge what you thought you knew. And most of all, you learn about yourself— Your strength and weaknesses, where you want to go and eventually, where you want to return.
If you’d like to be part of the Shlicha’s hiking group, you're warmly invited to join a monthly Saturday hike for all ages, exploring Nashville and the surrounding area. These easygoing hikes are less about the challenge and more about community, connection, and the shared experience of classic Israeli coffee in nature.
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