For some travelers, visiting a few countries simply sparks the wanderlust. But for a growing number of globe-trotters, seeing the world is no longer just about exploring—it’s about conquering lists, climbing leaderboards, and collecting destinations like rare stamps. This is the world of competitive travel, where passports fill up fast, and the journey is driven as much by checkboxes as by curiosity.
It all began in a way that seems almost poetic: mid-flight, at cruising altitude, when Charles Veley—then a tech entrepreneur fresh off an IPO—flipped through an airline magazine and discovered the Travelers’ Century Club. To join, one had to visit 100 recognized places on a list that stretched beyond traditional countries to include distant territories and obscure regions. Veley was hooked.
“If you put a list in front of me, I just want to complete it,” he says. And so began an obsession that would lead him to Rockall, a desolate islet in the North Atlantic, and to Point Roberts, a curious U.S. exclave accessible only through Canada. His adventures, once about discovery, soon became a quest for completeness.
Veley didn’t stop with the Century Club’s 330 destinations. In 2005, frustrated with what he saw as an incomplete picture of the globe, he founded Most Traveled People (MTP), introducing a vastly expanded list that now includes over 1,500 locations—from California’s subregions to Antarctica’s Marie Byrd Land. The MTP site lets members track their progress, share photos, and rank themselves in real-time. The top name on the leaderboard? João Paulo Peixoto of Portugal, who has ticked off an astonishing 1,369 locations.
But MTP isn’t alone. Greek South African traveler Harry Mitsidis, unsatisfied with the MTP list’s regional breakdowns, launched a rival platform in 2012: NomadMania. His approach was more granular, especially with underrepresented regions like Africa. Today, NomadMania lists 1,301 destinations and enforces stricter verification processes for its top travelers—ensuring each ranking is backed by evidence like passport stamps and boarding passes.
Still, for all their detail and rigor, these lists have sparked debate. Are they encouraging genuine exploration—or reducing rich cultural experiences to a race?
Mitsidis himself admits that, in his early days, he was guilty of skimming through countries too quickly. “I was in the wrong,” he says, reflecting on how the pressure to move fast left him with shallow impressions. But the lists, ironically, brought him back. “Now that I’ve been to them again and focused on the regions, I have a much better understanding.”
The idea of “place collecting” is nothing new, but it’s taken on a digital twist. On both MTP and NomadMania, user profiles resemble gamer stats, and sharing one’s list progress is a core part of the appeal. It’s not just about where you’ve been—it’s about proving it.
This collector mentality has its critics. Researchers, like Liverpool Business School’s Ioannis Kostopoulos, warn that list-driven travel can prioritize volume over value. He argues that some travelers—focused on numbers—risk overlooking environmental impact or cultural connection. In essence, the journey becomes more about the sticker book than the story.
Yet, list-making also serves a psychological purpose. It gives structure to big dreams. It helps ambitious goals feel achievable. It motivates and organizes. Jessica Nabongo, the first Black woman to travel to every country, described the thrill of watching her world map fill in. “It was endorphin-inducing,” she recalls. But she insists her motivation wasn’t competition—it was curiosity and representation.
The idea of visiting every country used to be extraordinary. Now, it’s attainable—at least for a few. As of 2023, an estimated 357 people have made it to all 193 United Nations member states. But with more people reaching that benchmark, the frontier has shifted. Travelers now seek greater challenges: regions within countries, territories, or even new modes of travel.
Take Thor Pedersen, a Danish explorer who decided to visit every country without flying. What was supposed to be a four-year mission became a decade-long odyssey, culminating in the Maldives in 2023. “What kept me going?” he says. “The list. Watching it get shorter and shorter.”
Ultimately, lists like those from MTP and NomadMania have reshaped what it means to be “well-traveled.” They’ve created a subculture of globe-trotters driven not just by wonder, but by measurable goals. These travelers may be viewed as obsessive or superficial, but many argue the opposite: that their lists push them to the fringes of the map—places most tourists never go.
Still, as philosopher C. Thi Nguyen notes, there’s a danger when simplified metrics replace more nuanced motivations. “The things you care about can be hyper-simplified,” he says. Social media and scoreboards have a way of narrowing complex desires into trackable numbers.
And yet, despite all the counting and competition, the world resists simplification. “We think in two dimensions,” says traveler Per Besson, “we arrive in three.” That moment—when a place surprises you, when it’s more than you imagined—is why many still go. No list can capture that feeling. And perhaps, in the end, that’s the only measure that matters.
