I had a bad case of cabin fever, especially after not being able β or willing β to leave Israel, where I live, on account of Covid. The last time I was in Switzerland was in , which seemed like eons ago. I love Israel, and take whatever opportunities I can to enjoy its beautiful parks. I got a call from Tourplus, a travel company that specializes in kosher tours for Orthodox Jews.
They were offering a trip to Andorra β a little country somewhere in the Pyrenees Mountains. Granted, the Pyrenees are no match for the Swiss Alps, but it is beautiful and a lot cheaper.
Reluctantly, I signed up. Although I could have made my own arrangements and gone to Switzerland, I am not one of those people who likes to rent an apartment, have frozen meat shipped over, and spend my time cooking. No siree. I want to enjoy myself. I want to hike and bike and come back to a dinner that is waiting for me to devour.
On the Shabbos following the offer to Andorra, I sat at the dining room table in my apartment to eat seudah shlishis. Staring at the empty chairs, I felt a deep sadness overwhelm me.
No wife, no kids, no grandchildren. I remember the last time I went on a Tourplus excursion. The hotel dining room was packed with families. No, I was not going to be the only person sitting alone at a table. After Shabbos, I called a young man whom I had taken to Switzerland three years before. He was more than happy to come again with me picking up the tab.
