Our Love-Hate Relationship with the Travel Bucket List: What’s the Reason?

It had been four years since I last connected with my childhood friend Ray. This was not his fault; I often ignored his calls. I had outgrown the friendship, which naturally happens over time, making any communication feel like clinging to fading memories.

When he passed away in March this year, I was consumed by grief. I isolated myself in my home, 200 miles from our childhood town, grappling with the abruptness of it all. I revisited my memories of him, which felt few and fragile, and tried to revive him by scrolling through his Instagram. In his later years, he explored photography and music, sharing songs that largely went unnoticed. I spent hours listening to them on repeat, losing track of time, with sorrow as my constant companion.

That morning, in a moment of clarity brought on by grief, I booked a four-day gorilla trekking adventure in Uganda for the following month. I had dreamed of trekking to see mountain gorillas for years but always postponed it, convincing myself it wasn’t the right time. However, Ray’s death shifted something within me, and I decided to check this experience off my so-called bucket list. This is a story about bucket lists, but it also reflects on privilege and the inevitability of death.

The concept of bucket lists became widely known thanks to the 2007 film The Bucket List, featuring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson as two terminally ill men who compile a list of experiences to fulfill before they die. Freeman’s character, Carter Chambers, had the vision (beginning with broad ideas like “See something truly majestic”), while Nicholson’s Edward Cole had the funds to turn their dreams into reality. Over a few months, the two men skydive; explore the North Pole, Mount Everest, and the Taj Mahal; embark on a sMytouri in East Africa; motorcycle along the Great Wall of China; race classic cars on California’s Speedway; fly over the North Pole; and scale the Great Pyramid of Giza. “By any standard, Edward Cole experienced more in his final days than most people do in a lifetime,” narrates Freeman’s character, who also serves as the film’s voice.

At the core of bucket lists lies a capitalist efficiency aimed at maximizing the value extracted from travel and adventures. This approach allows individuals, much like the fictional Edward Cole, to experience more in a few days or months than most achieve in a lifetime.

The bucket list concept has flourished, leading travelers to explore various lists tailored to their interests. The New York Times has shared numerous options, from a crowd-sourced list featuring the 25 top travel experiences to themed lists like the Harry Potter bucket list and others designed for young adults entering college. Notably, Beyoncé and Jay Z have even crafted a joint bucket list to strengthen their marriage.

However, this way of thinking has its critics. Bucket lists have been reproached for promoting unrealistic travel expectations, favoring new experiences over cherished familiar ones, and turning travel into a checklist of obligations. Travel writer Sebastian Modak has contended that this numerical approach to travel must change, advocating instead for a slower pace, where we resist our conditioned obsession with time and allow ourselves to truly observe the world around us.

Nevertheless, bucket lists shouldn’t be dismissed entirely. Simply traveling slowly doesn’t guarantee heightened awareness; individuals can choose to engage with their surroundings regardless of having a bucket list. These lists also serve a practical purpose in organizing travel while acknowledging our desire to partake in popular activities. They address the reality of time scarcity, as passport inequality means not everyone can travel spontaneously. Modak suggests that slow travel can involve discovering one's local area, but often, I yearn for new experiences elsewhere and the thrill of iconic adventures.

During my visit to Motown in 2022, my experience was strictly planned and focused; I was there for one purpose, constrained by time and budget. My goal was to see Hitsville U.S.A., the legendary studio that nurtured the talents of The Temptations, Marvin Gaye, The Jackson Five, and Diana Ross, among many other influential artists. Perhaps if I had taken the time to explore Detroit, my trip could have transformed my perspective. I might have appreciated the city itself. However, my sole interest lay in Motown’s recording studio. It was exhilarating to wander through the building, to sing and dance in the very space where The Temptations and The Vandellas once performed, to gaze into Berry Gordy’s home, to view the records adorning the walls, and to soak in the rich musical legacy. To stand in the place Esther Gordy once remarked to her brother, “Berry, I think we made history and didn’t even know it.”

Many bucket-list journeys are fueled by the desire for unique experiences, making the typical advice of slowing down feel out of place: There was no alternative but to visit Motown directly. I traveled to Motown because I’ve adored its music for years and longed to be where it originated—a pilgrimage for lovers of African American music. The visit made my bucket list simply because I believed it would bring me joy, which it did. Several factors aligned to make the trip possible: being in the United States, having recently been in Chicago just a train ride away from Detroit, having a few free days, and seizing the chance to create a lasting memory.

This same yearning compels people to climb Everest, the world’s highest peak, or to explore the Atacama Desert, the driest place on Earth, or even to encounter the big five game animals—lions, leopards, buffalo, rhinos, and elephants—in the wild. While there's certainly value in local travel, we cannot dismiss experiences that celebrate the extraordinary, the ultimate, the apex. When much of your life is spent in the valleys, these peak experiences become even more vivid.

One major criticism of bucket lists is that they tend to promote travel to the same overpopulated destinations. However, this critique often overlooks why these places are so beloved. Just like in pop culture, where Beyoncé, the film Titanic, and Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy achieved massive popularity, this acclaim should not diminish their value. The Great Pyramid of Giza stands as a marvel of human achievement. The desire of many to visit it—like Edward Cole and Carter Chambers—does not lessen its magnificence.

Travelers have diverse motivations for their journeys, making it overly simplistic to group all bucket-list travelers together. For instance, Safinah Danish Elahi, a 35-year-old Pakistani writer and publisher, views her bucket list as a quest for diverse experiences. Her goal is to visit 100 countries before turning 50, having already explored 63. Life is fleeting, and part of its thrill for her lies in visiting as many places as possible. Alongside her husband and their two children, aged 14 and 10, she embarks on multi-week, multi-country adventures. On a recent journey, they started in the United Kingdom and over 17 days visited Kenya, Tanzania, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Namibia, Botswana, and Mauritius. For Elahi, the priority is to see a variety of destinations rather than remain in one location, which she acknowledges has its downsides.

"Spending a month in a foreign country to truly learn its customs and grasp the language would be wonderful," she remarks. "But realistically, work and financial limitations make that difficult. I aim to visit as many countries as possible in a single trip, which often prevents me from fully enjoying each destination. Yet, this approach allows me to prioritize the most significant and popular sites, and I love the idea of experiencing various cultures in one journey."

Grace Chege, a passionate traveler from Kenya, operates a budget travel agency called Leetle Adventures. Her clients typically lack unlimited vacation time due to strict work or school commitments, or family responsibilities, so they strive to maximize enjoyment within their limited travel windows. For Chege, understanding her clients' travel bucket lists is essential; it helps them strategize their plans around their lives to make trips possible. Given that many clients come from the Global South, managing vaccinations and visa requirements is crucial. While wandering and exploring freely might sound appealing, this carefree approach to travel is a privilege not universally accessible.

The challenge of contemplating bucket lists lies in their tendency to promote targeted travel, which can create issues like homogenized travel experiences that may negatively impact destinations. Cities like Venice and Barcelona face environmental and housing crises from excessive tourism. In the film, Cole and Chambers embark on a sDinogoi adventure in the Serengeti, where such tourism has displaced local communities due to the influx of visitors. However, this doesn’t imply we should avoid Venice, Barcelona, or sDinogoi altogether; responsible travel practices can still be applied to these popular spots.

The key is not to eliminate travel bucket lists entirely but to engage in bucket-list travel in a way that honors both yourself and your destinations: visiting during off-peak times when crowds are reduced, being aware of travel's political implications, and prioritizing support for local communities by staying at and shopping from local businesses.

Perhaps the greatest value of bucket lists is that they clarify what truly matters to each traveler. When we’re in good health, it can be hard to feel the urgency to accomplish something until it’s too late. I spent years contemplating a trip to see mountain gorillas, always thinking there would be time in the future. However, after Ray passed away, the urgency became apparent, reminding me that there’s never a perfect time for such experiences.

A few weeks later, I found myself scaling a mountain in western Uganda, enveloped by the symphony of the rain forest—the melodies of birds, the buzzing of insects, and the rustling of animals among the trees. Exhausted and muddy from multiple slips on the damp grass, I made my way through the dense underbrush, my guide forging a path with his machete. We heard the silverback's deep, thunderous roar before we laid eyes on him. As we stepped into a clearing, we spotted the gorilla family we had been tracking. I paused, mesmerized, as the gorillas feasted, and for the next hour, I sat quietly among them, grateful for finally embarking on this journey.