You’ve probably never heard of Schlomit Flaum. In fact, she was nearly forgotten even during her lifetime.
Yet Schlomit (Frida) Flaum was a groundbreaking figure—a writer who traveled paths no Hebrew woman had ventured down before. Driven by curiosity, courage, and a desire to explore, she lived a pioneering yet isolated life.
She left behind no family, no loved ones to preserve her memory. Even within the educational, cultural, and literary circles of her time, Flaum’s name faded into obscurity long before her death.
However, she did leave us something remarkable: her extraordinary Hebrew memoirfrom 1935, Wandering Daughter of Israel: Memories, Travels and Meetings (Bat Yisrael Nodedet… Zichronot Masa’ot U’pgishot). It was the first Hebrew-language travelogue written by a woman from the Land of Israel, and also the first Hebrew autobiography by such a woman—an exceptional document illuminating the life of a singular individual.
Wandering Daughter of Israel: Memories, Travels and Meetings, 1935, published by the “L. Mayer” bookstore.
“I have always been drawn to marginal and forgotten figures,” writes Professor Nurit Govrin, among the leading researchers of Hebrew literature, introducing her book about Israel’s first female backpacker. “She is mentioned only rarely, in passing, in memoirs of those who helped lay the foundations for early childhood education in the Land of Israel, or appears merely as a footnote in historical studies of the period,” Govrin sadly notes. Having extensively researched Flaum’s life and works, Govrin aims to restore her to the historical narrative and rescue her story from oblivion.
But why does Flaum deserve a place in our history at all?
Flaum was an educator by profession, but above all, she was an adventurer—a woman endlessly driven to explore new places and encounter remarkable people. Her work often served as the ideal justification (or perhaps excuse) for embarking on her many journeys.
In the early 20th century, the idea of a woman traveling the world alone was almost unheard of. Yet Flaum traveled extensively through the Middle East and Europe, and even made multiple trips to the United States, where her brothers lived. Of all her travels, however, it was her journey to India that left the deepest impression. Flaum was the first woman from the Land of Israel to visit India, becoming enchanted by the country, forming friendships with some of its most influential leaders, and returning home profoundly transformed by the experience.
Her life was undoubtedly extraordinary, but it was also marked by profound sadness. Despite her achievements, Flaum leaves the impression of a deeply lonely woman. She never married, had no family of her own, and—perhaps more significantly—formed no lasting or meaningful friendships, at least none that we know of today. In her book, she reassures readers by describing her solitude as something that strengthened and motivated her: “I had no time to feel my loneliness” (p. 51—all quotes are from Wandering Daughter of Israel: Memories, Travels and Meetings).
Flaum never received recognition in her lifetime, nor afterward—perhaps precisely because she was revolutionary, courageous, and far ahead of her time. She was mostly met with indifference, and from the little we know, her final decades were marked by severe poverty and hardship.
If Flaum were alive today, she could easily have maintained a popular TikTok or Instagram account, sharing captivating photos from spectacular places she visited—like the pyramids or the bustling markets of Damascus—and the famous people she interviewed (from Gandhi to Shirley Temple), as well as events and exhibitions she attended. Sharing her adventures through reels or stories, she likely would have received enthusiastic praise and endless likes. But such possibilities did not exist in her time, and she had to settle for publishing her impressions in local newspapers and, eventually, in her remarkable memoir.
The Early Years
In her memoir, Flaum devotes three chapters to her childhood. Born in Kaunas, Lithuania, on Purim of 1893, she was the fourth of five siblings in a prosperous Zionist Jewish family. She shared an especially close bond with her father, whose captivating stories of his own travels deeply inspired her.
Her recollections of childhood and family relationships are complex—blending feelings of love and gratitude with bitterness and resentment. Flaum’s rebellious and independent spirit set her apart from her obedient and mild-mannered sisters, making her early years particularly challenging. Reflecting on this time, she wrote poignantly: “My tears, unnoticed by my family members, pooled in my heart, and sometimes it seems to me they have never dried there” (p. 11).
Flaum’s unique personality is further reflected in the complete absence of romantic relationships throughout her memoir. Instead, she describes herself as prone to platonic infatuations—first toward her teachers, later toward individuals she encountered during her journeys. In her book, she openly acknowledges this trait:
“My lonely heart yearned for love, yet I retreated inward, living within an imaginary world of my own creation.”
While attending high school in Frankfurt, Flaum gained a broad education, mastering several languages and developing a passion for history, literature, art, and theater. At age sixteen, she began shaping her future by enrolling in a two-year training program for kindergarten and early childhood educators. She felt she had found her true calling: “My life gained purpose—to be useful in the world.”
Yet the sudden death of her beloved father, who passed away unexpectedly at age 48 when Flaum was only sixteen, profoundly changed the direction of her life. From the deep pain of this loss, she resolved to immigrate to the Land of Israel, fulfilling her father’s Zionist dreams.
During this period, Flaum immersed herself in books about extraordinary Jewish women who became personal role models—particularly Rahel Levin (likely Rahel Varnhagen, the groundbreaking German-Jewish author who later converted to Christianity), whom she greatly admired, as well as medieval Jewish poets and writers such as Sarra Copia Sullam. Inspired by their strength and achievements, Flaum embarked on her own journey to the Holy Land in 1911. Yet even after securing employment in Jerusalem with the educational organization “Ezra,” she first set out on an adventurous journey through Europe and the Middle East—a trip that foreshadowed the extensive travels of her future.
Upon arriving at the kindergarten, she was appointed to manage in Jerusalem’s Old City, Flaum was shocked by the terrible conditions:
“More than a hundred children packed tightly together like sardines in small rooms—without a garden, without a playground, breathing foul, stale air… My heart was torn apart. The children were ravaged by malaria, malnourished, their eyes filled with pus… I had never before seen such desperate conditions” (p. 41).
She immediately rolled up her sleeves and began the arduous task ahead—establishing basic cleanliness, improving nutrition, and even arranging visits from Jerusalem’s new ophthalmologist, Dr. Ticho, who examined the suffering children. In her free hours, Flaum explored and wandered through the city.
Her Travels
After World War I, the Hebrew education system in the region came under the control of the Zionist Organization, which at the time also managed Jewish educational institutions in Damascus. Flaum relocated to Syria, where she managed kindergartens for two years. During her stay, she learned Arabic, traveled and enthusiastically befriended countless new acquaintances—referred to consistently throughout her memoir as “friends”—with an eagerness that seemed almost compulsive. Her independent lifestyle, though perhaps acceptable for men, was considered highly unconventional and inappropriate for a young, unmarried woman of that era.
After concluding her work in Damascus, Flaum again broke with convention and societal norms—choosing to become a nomad. For the next fifteen years, she traveled extensively around the globe at a pace so dizzying it can be difficult to follow. She visited cultural institutions and museums, attended meetings, and embarked on nature excursions, meticulously documenting every detail in her memoir. Yet despite her thorough descriptions, Flaum does not explain how she was able to finance these extensive travels. Moreover, even though her journeys occurred during the challenging interwar period, her accounts notably lack any complaints or mention of hardships. Flaum deliberately excluded such worldly details, choosing instead to focus solely on experiences she considered meaningful.
Reading about Flaum’s extraordinary adventures, one might question whether her memoir perhaps contains exaggerations or elements of self-aggrandizement. However, Professor Govrin’s research confirms that Flaum’s descriptions are entirely accurate, including her remarkable encounters—among them a documented interview with the child star Shirley Temple.
Among Flaum’s many remarkable encounters was a meeting in Rome in 1920 with Maria Montessori, the renowned Italian educator and physician who developed the Montessori method of education, emphasizing children’s independent learning. “We spoke at length about the Land of Israel… How thrilled I was about the prospect of this extraordinary educator visiting our country,” Flaum wrote in her travel diary (p. 100). During her visits to the United States, she spent time at Columbia University and even rubbed shoulders with Marie Curie and Albert Einstein.
Understanding Flaum’s character makes it clear how she succeeded in meeting some of the most influential and intriguing figures of her time. She possessed a journalist’s instinct: meticulously preparing for every encounter by thoroughly researching the individuals and places she intended to visit, enabling her to engage in meaningful dialogues.
It was not only curiosity and a thirst for knowledge that accompanied Flaum on her journeys—she also carried the Land of Israel with her everywhere she went. Every new place was measured against the Holy Land. She enthusiastically promoted Zionism to everyone she met, serving as a self-appointed ambassador, tirelessly encouraging others to visit and witness firsthand the remarkable developments occurring in the spirit of the Zionist vision. Yet despite her deep love for the land she had chosen, each time she left she grew more distant from the Land of Israel and its people, and whenever she eventually returned, her sense of alienation only deepened.
The Return from India
During her trip to the United States in 1921, amidst a busy itinerary—including a conversation with Thomas Edison at his laboratories—Flaum attended a lecture that profoundly changed her life. The celebrated Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore gave a talk in New York, and Flaum felt she was witnessing something prophetic: “The impression was immense… Tagore did not deliver a speech. He conversed. He educated,” she wrote (p. 139). This moment of connection, akin to love at first sight, eventually inspired her journey to India: “Thus it came to pass that the new world [America] later brought me to one of the most ancient [India].” Even after returning to Mandatory Palestine, her bond with Tagore continued to shape her life, and she passionately worked to spread his legacy throughout the country.
She spent two years in India, meeting Tagore, Gandhi, and other influential figures who shaped her life profoundly. Yet, the relationship was not one-sided: a lifelong correspondence developed between the eccentric, humble traveler and the renowned poet. These letters reveal “the same feelings of closeness and mutual respect, along with something subtle and deeply personal between the lines, carefully hidden,” writes Govrin. Flaum’s letters to Tagore remain preserved in his archive in India. In his last letter to Flaum, written on his 80th birthday just two months before his death, Tagore thanked her for her birthday greetings and for the gift she had sent—“Your sweet token of remembrance,” he wrote, “touched me deeply in my soul.”
For Flaum, India meant Tagore, and Tagore meant India. Later in life, she wrote her second and final book about him and delivered lectures on India and Tagore across Mandatory Palestine.
Nearly one-third of her memoir is dedicated to this period, forming the very heart of the book. It almost seems as if everything else serves as preparation or as a reflection influenced by this central chapter of her life. “It was my destiny to penetrate India’s wounded heart, to understand its sufferings, to become its friend, almost its daughter—as though India had become my second homeland,” she wrote (p. 245).
Long before young Israelis began traveling to India and the East after their army service—immersing themselves in its unique culture, returning home enamored, dressed in colorful clothes and filled with vivid memories—there was someone who had already paved the way.
The End of Her Wanderings
After fifteen fascinating yet lonely years, Flaum returned to the Land of Israel. She resumed her educational career and published several translations and articles, which were eventually forgotten. Her memoir, Wandering Daughter of Israel: Memories, Travels and Meetings, was published in Jerusalem in 1935 by the “L. Mayer” bookstore, receiving virtually no attention from the local press, apart from a brief mention in Hed HaGan, the internal professional journal of the Kindergarten Teachers’ Association. The memoir included twenty illustrations by Flaum herself, revealing yet another hidden talent, as well as twenty-two photographs of notable figures she had encountered during her travels. Her second book, devoted to Tagore and published in 1946, similarly faded into obscurity.
After Israel’s War of Independence, Flaum described her condition in stark terms: “I suffered from heart disease and diabetes.” During this difficult period, she hardly wrote at all, as her deteriorating health prevented her from embarking on the journeys she loved so deeply. These final years were undoubtedly challenging; she relied on the generosity of friends to maintain her dignity, and was hospitalized several times due to illness.
Schlomit F. Flaum passed away in 1963 at the age of seventy, at Jerusalem’s Shaare Zedek Hospital. Very few remembered her, and those who did recalled mainly her unusual style of dress, which often drew attention.
Reading Flaum’s memoir today—reissued in 2019, more than eighty years after its original publication—reveals several striking qualities. First and foremost is the pioneering spirit evident on every page, which partly explains why her book was largely ignored upon release, unlike other travel memoirs of the same period. Not only was it authored by a woman at a time when such writing was rare, but Flaum boldly placed herself at the heart of the narrative, which, as Govrin notes, is “written in the voice of someone who is proud of her own accomplishments.”
Another remarkable feature is Flaum’s meticulous effort to establish herself as a credible author. She carefully wove factual accounts and letters into her narrative, adopting the approach of an astute journalist capable of entering any home—no matter how wealthy or prominent—and establishing meaningful connections with people who intrigued her.
Above all, however, Flaum’s story is uniquely personal, capturing the journey of a woman who lived a strikingly unconventional life for her era. Hers is a story told not with regret, but pride.
“She was a queen abroad, yet a beggar at home,” writes Govrin. Indeed, Flaum brilliantly succeeded in making the wider world her true home, finding abroad what she lacked in her own country: “recognition, appreciation, friendship, and a sense of purpose.” Flaum longed to influence others and be valued, and though she never fully realized these dreams in public life, she remained proud of her ambitions, her tireless efforts to achieve them, and the life she chose—a life devoted to exploration, discovery, and dedication to others. It is this legacy by which she deserves to be remembered.
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In the preparation of this article, we made use of Nurit Govrin’s book,
The Forgotten Traveler: Shlomith F. Flaum: Her Life and Work [Hebrew]
