Traveling With Celiac Disease: What No One Tells You

This post isn’t about points, upgrades, or luxury-for-less.

It’s about what it’s really like to travel - and live - with Celiac disease, and why I understand how overwhelming dietary restrictions can feel.

If you’re newly diagnosed, scared to travel, tired of explaining yourself, or grieving the way food used to fit into your life - this is for you.

The First Diagnosis (Before the Internet Was Helpful)

Celiac disease entered my life before most people knew what it was.

My dad was diagnosed in 2000.
I was diagnosed for the first time in 2003.

Back then, there were no apps. No Instagram accounts. No restaurant filters. We bought a bread maker. We signed up for newsletters. I still had dial-up internet.

Gluten-free wasn’t trendy. It wasn’t understood. It was isolating.

Then I went to college - and that’s when it got really hard.

I was the only person on campus with a gluten allergy. At least, the only one anyone acknowledged. Dining halls only labeled peanut allergies back then. Gluten wasn’t even on the radar.

I had to work with a nutritionist, and together we petitioned the school to start labeling food. It was slow. It was exhausting. And most of the time, it felt like shouting into the void.

While everyone else grabbed pizza and sandwiches, I ate baked potatoes, salads, and whatever I could piece together safely. Most days, it sucked. Eating felt less like nourishment and more like survival. I wasn’t being dramatic - I was trying to exist in a system that wasn’t built for me.

After college, like many people back then, I was undiagnosed, then re-diagnosed, then tested again and again.

Finally, when I was 31, right before my first trip to London in 2015, I was told - for sure - that this was permanent.

Food Was My Language

I don’t think people understand what it means to lose food unless food was your thing.

I loved food. I followed chefs. I cooked for friends and family all the time. I baked. I hosted. I experimented.

When I traveled, food was the experience. I ate whatever the locals ate - no questions asked. I’ve eaten insects, blood soup, intestine soup, and things I still can’t properly explain. Food was curiosity. Joy. Culture. Connection.

So being diagnosed felt like someone asking, “What’s your favorite thing?” - and then taking it away.

I stopped cooking. I stopped baking. I stopped following chefs. I didn’t replace food with something else - I just made eating functional. Necessary. Small.

Travel Became Hard

Travel didn’t stop - but it changed.

Every trip came with anxiety. Every menu felt like a test. Every meal required planning that other people never see.

Some places were brutal. Greece was really challenging. Germany? I’ll never go back.

Ireland was surprisingly easy. 

For a long time, travel felt like work instead of joy.

The best pizza I've ever had… in Rome of all places. See if you can spot the little Celiac flag.

Then Something Shifted

After more than a decade of traveling with Celiac, I started to notice patterns.

Some destinations weren’t just manageable - they were easy.

And one country shocked me more than any other: Italy

Yes. Italy. The land of pasta and bread is the best gluten-free country I’ve ever traveled to.

Servers understand. Kitchens take it seriously. Gluten-free pasta and pizza aren’t an afterthought - they’re expected. And delicious.

Italy gave me something back I didn’t realize I’d lost: ease.

Learning to Travel Differently (Not Less)

Over time, I adapted.

I started paying attention to vegetarian options, vegan menus, and restaurants that already understood cross-contamination. Not because I wanted to eat that way - but because those kitchens were trained to think differently.

I stopped trying to travel like I used to. I started traveling like someone who deserved accommodations.

A dedicated section for gluten-free desserts. This is what accommodation looks like.

Being Seen Changed Everything

The ADA recognizing Celiac disease as a disability was a game changer for me.

Not because I want special treatment - but because it gave me language.

I can now say:

• This is a disability.

• I can’t safely participate without accommodations.

• I do need help.

That matters. It changed how I advocate for myself. It changed how seriously people take me. It changed how safe I feel asking for what I need.

A Moment of Joy: Celebrity Cruises

Recently, I traveled on Celebrity Cruises, and it was one of the most affirming experiences I’ve had.

There was an entire vegan section (and no - not just salad), a gluten-free pastry and bread station (with separate toaster!), and the ability to pre-order meals the day before so chefs could prepare safely.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like a burden.

I felt normal.

And that matters more than people realize.

This is gluten-free. All of it. Ireland understood the assignment.

I Love Travel Again

Yes, traveling with Celiac disease is harder. It requires planning, communication, and self-advocacy.

But I love travel again.

And I want you to hear this clearly: Don’t stop traveling. Don’t shrink your world because food feels scary. You are not dramatic. You are not difficult. You are not asking for too much.

You are navigating the world with a body that needs support.

If you’re nervous, overwhelmed, newly diagnosed, or just tired - I see you.

You don’t have to give up travel. You just need the right information, the right language, and the right support.

And I’m here to help you do that.

Let’s Plan Your Trip

I know how much planning goes into traveling with Celiac - because I do it too. As a Travel Advisor with Rosedale Travel, I help people plan trips that actually accommodate their needs. And if you want to stretch your budget with credit card points, that's my specialty. Book a free session now and let's make your next trip feel easy.