What exactly is ‘Vacation Brain’—and is it a real phenomenon?

Travel enthusiast Michelle Endo dedicated three years to overseeing kids’ clubs on cruise ships, primarily with Royal Caribbean. She fondly recalls the bustling excitement of embarkation day, where she was part of the welcoming committee, helping passengers settle into their temporary floating homes. Clad in a bright yellow T-shirt proclaiming I’m your Royal welcome. Ask me anything, she spent hours providing directions and answering queries. “More than once, I encountered questions like ‘Do these stairs go up or down?’ and ‘Which elevators move horizontally from front to back?’,” she reflects, “Initially, I thought they were just trying to joke or engage in light banter.”

Endo soon discovered these were genuine, albeit strange, inquiries. She clarified that stairs function in both directions and that elevators operate just like those on land—imagine them as vertical transportation for people. “When you’re on vacation, especially on a cruise or in a new setting, your mind is attempting to adapt and process numerous new stimuli simultaneously,” she explains. “The strangeness of it all may lead to questions about everything—since the ship differed from everyday life, they assumed everything else would be different too, even how stairs operate.”

This is what we call vacation brain. It’s that elusive mindset triggered when we break free from our routine—a delightful mix of bewilderment, relaxation, and detachment. We yearn for it while away and treasure it upon returning, serving as a motivation to adopt a worry-free approach to our daily lives. But does it truly exist, or is it merely a product of our imagination, fueled by one too many cocktails and a break from screens? If it is real, how does it manifest in our minds? Most crucially, how can we maintain that essential mindset once we've returned home and unpacked?

Charlotte Russell is a practicing therapist and cofounder of The Travel Psychologist, a platform that investigates the mental aspects of travel. She asserts that vacation brain is not a delusion caused by sun exposure. “We’re definitely not imagining it,” Russell states about the concept of our brains entering a psychological airplane mode during travel. She recalls a recent solo adventure through Italy and Greece. When her husband inquired where to meet her at the journey's conclusion, Russell, still in a dreamy haze, casually mentioned he’d find her where he dropped her off. The twist: she was flying with a different airline from a different country, making that advice incorrect. “In my professional mode, I’d be sharp and alert, but during vacation mode, I was blissfully unaware.”

Nonetheless, Russell mentions that formal research on how our brains disconnect while traveling is scarce, primarily due to the lack of financial motivation to pursue such studies—few companies can profit from the results, regardless of what they reveal. The prevailing attitude appears more dismissive than inquisitive: If people are enjoying themselves, why interfere? Thus, she offers her own hypothesis regarding vacation brain, essentially another term from the Compassion Focused Therapy (CFT) framework established by Professor Paul Gilbert. The CFT framework categorizes the brain into three distinct systems, each fulfilling unique roles: the drive system, for instance, motivates us toward goals like financial gain and finding partners; while the threat system protects us from danger. Gilbert's third system—the soothing system—is what Russell identifies as the foundation of vacation brain. "It's about forming connections with others, finding relaxation and rest; connecting with ourselves and others is restorative, and that’s the essence of vacation brain," she asserts. "We transition into different neural pathways, making those circuits more active."

Adam Galinsky, a social psychologist at Columbia Business School, adds, "When we step away from our usual routines, we often gain a broader perspective." Rather than emptying our minds—like pondering horizontal elevators—we are actually clearing mental space for more innovative and constructive thoughts. "There's a combination of relaxation and cognitive involvement—low cortisol levels but high engagement? That’s what makes vacations so wonderful." This is similar to the concept of soft fascination, where our focus is captured by a less intense activity, allowing the brain to reflect and introspect—often linked to our enjoyment of nature, whether at the beach or in a forest. Thus, soft fascination and vacation brain could be seen as different facets of the same experience.

Experts warn that achieving vacation brain doesn’t merely happen through a fly-and-flop experience that sharply contrasts with the monotony of everyday life, devoid of responsibilities. According to Andrew Stevenson, a senior lecturer at Manchester Metropolitan University in the UK and author of the recent book, The Psychology of Travel, the most beneficial trips blend activity with rest. "I define vacation brain as a positive mindset that opens you up to new experiences," he explains. The quickest way to reach this mindset is through trips that combine two aspects: hedonistic and eudaemonic. The former seeks enjoyment (the fly-and-flop), while the latter relates to self-growth, such as visiting galleries or taking a local cooking class. Research has shown that trips incorporating both aspects enhance happiness while traveling and extend that feeling upon returning home.

Indeed, many Americans find it harder to maintain the benefits of vacation mode than to transition back to their everyday lives. The American Psychological Association’s 2018 Work and Well-Being survey found that, among the 1,512 working adults surveyed, 40 percent felt the mental perks of their vacation vanished within a few days of returning home, and 24 percent reported losing those benefits immediately. Frequently, as Galinsky from Columbia points out, getting back home initiates what he refers to as the "vacation hangover"—you’ve enjoyed a fantastic time, feeling deeply relaxed, and then the next morning, oh no, your brain is in agony.

Amit Sood, the executive director of the Global Center for Resiliency and Wellbeing and a former professor of medicine at the Mayo Clinic, recommends a unique approach to harnessing both hedonistic and eudaemonic instincts for lasting benefits at home: voluntourism. "You return not just temporarily revitalized, but truly inspired, and that inspiration can endure for a long time," he says.

If you’re not keen on transforming your trip into a charitable venture, there are other options. Charlotte Russell suggests returning home a day earlier than usual—maybe Saturday instead of Sunday after a weeklong getaway—providing a buffer before diving back into daily responsibilities. Additionally, consider the advantages of a long weekend. Russell references an Australian study that found such weekends to be in the 'Goldilocks Zone'—perfect for reaping benefits during the trip and upon return. "The study examined short trips of about three or four days and their impact on brain recovery," she explains. "They discovered that these trips not only made participants feel rejuvenated but also improved their performance on cognitive assessments."