Richard A. Friedman

Consider a former patient of mine, a hard-driving guy in finance who rarely, if ever, took time off and who finally agreed to a vacation at the urging — or more accurately, the threats — of his wife. Reluctantly, off he went with his wife to Tuscany.

Two weeks later, he returned to my office looking unusually relaxed. He related the following incident: He’d been driving in a little village when his car stalled out at a train crossing. Panicked, he and his wife got out and prepared for the worst, when a local farmer came by and offered to tow the car to safety. The farmer also insisted on taking them to his house for lunch, which turned into an all-day affair.

At first, the experience disconcerted my patient, who had carefully planned his vacation to the minute. But in the end he could not have been more delighted by this unexpected encounter. In fact, he referred to it repeatedly in his therapy after that.

My patient had no pictures or videos to show me, just a sharp and indelible memory that he carried with him. And that I suspect is key to a great and long-lasting vacation: He allowed himself to be open to the unforeseen and immersed in his experience.

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I do have one unglamorous, poorly framed shot of a dish of grilled octopus at a simple seaside taverna where I spent an unplanned afternoon talking with the charming owner. Whether or not I look at that image, when I think of that lunch, the pleasure of the afternoon comes rushing back.

That, I believe, is the way to bring your vacation home — not as a collection of recorded moments but as a few vivid experiences you allow to take you by surprise.

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Richard A. Friedman is a professor of clinical psychiatry and the director of the psychopharmacology clinic at the Weill Cornell Medical College, and a contributing opinion writer.