Unforgettable Lessons I Learned Traveling Across Asia With My Cat

By Mia Kercher

In June 2024, I decided to leave my expat home in Serbia and go fully nomadic. I would attempt to do an overland trip by driving my car from Serbia to Vietnam.

I could immediately think of some obstacles that might hinder my goal, but the biggest one?

I have a cat.

I did move my cat with me from the US to Serbia when I left the US. I even brought her with me on multiple road trips and camping trips around the Balkans during my four years living there…I’d just never tried to bring her with me on such a big trip. With so many obstacles and complicated borders to cross.

But she’s my best friend. She’s now 12 years old, and I’ve had her since she was a baby. She started traveling at the ripe young age of two years old, when I took her for a road trip across four states in the US. She started traveling at the ripe young age of two years old, when I took her for a road trip across four states in the US.

Plus, I didn’t have anyone who could take care of her for who-knows-how-long. So I decided, why not just give it a try? Worst case scenario, we might have to leave the car and continue on foot or fly, right?

Turns out, that’s exactly what I would end up having to do.

But it wasn’t Cleo’s fault; it was the car’s.

It was challenging getting the car across some borders, because I needed a special document called a Carnet de Passage. My pre-road trip search on the countries embassy websites didn’t tell me I needed it, so it was a surprise when I found out I wouldn’t be able to cross the Turkey/Iran border without it.

Fine. So I went around instead. Up through Georgia, Russia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Afghanistan.

How My Cat Handled the 4-Month Drive from Serbia to Afghanistan

Cleo actually loved the route through Turkey and Central Asia. We drove and camped along the road, hiked beautiful trails and met local people along the way.

I’d done short hikes with her before, with a mesh backpack I carried behind me. But once she turned ten, she decided she didn’t like it anymore and refused to use it.

For a while, I carried her in my own arms, but that can get very tiring after several hours.

So while I was in Istanbul, I found a little front carrier, where she could be out in the open and see everything around her. She loved it.

We had to practice a few times and work out a rhythm for long hikes. I learned to get more in tune with what her body language meant. As in, I found out when she was wiggling to get more comfortable, and when her wiggles or meows meant she needed to get down for a potty break.

I took plenty of breaks so she could drink water or stretch her legs, which meant we hiked pretty slowly. But this way, we both had a positive experience.

People adored her at every campsite we stopped at. Kids in Turkey especially would crowd around and play with her. Apart from some fights with a few strays at the campsites, we had a great time.

In Afghanistan especially, she and I both got celebrity-level attention.

Many people in Afghanistan have never even seen a foreigner, apart from American soldiers, much less a woman driving a car alone, holding a cat. We were invited over for lunch within minutes of crossing the border, and the hospitality didn’t slow down for the entire five weeks we were there.

Even the Taliban loved her! They all peaked in the windows with thumbs-up at every checkpoint we went through.

But unfortunately, that ol’ Carnet de Passage came back to haunt me when I wanted to drive into Pakistan. There was no way I’d be able to cross the border without it, so I’d either have to leave the car in Afghanistan, or turn back.

After waiting for four weeks to find out if I’d be able to get the CDP online, they told me I could do it…but it would cost me €12,000. So I spent another week in Afghanistan trying to decide what to do.

Could I buy a tuk-tuk and continue? A motorbike? Should I try a bicycle? Walking?

I’d never traveled with Cleo by bus so I had no idea how it would go. Would she behave? Would they let her on the bus?

In the end, I decided to go with my motto that started this whole trip in the first place:

Let’s just try it and see what happens.

I got across the Pakistan border on foot, with Cleo looking adorable in her little front pack, with no problem!

We bussed across the entire country with no issues. It was so much easier than I expected.

But then I got stuck at the India border. I only had an e-visa, instead of a stamped, physical one, and they turned me away. I decided to skip India and Myanmar and fly to Thailand instead.

To fly with Cleo, I had to buy a hard carrier to match the regulations of the plane. Not being able to find pee pads to line it in case she had to go, I bought a pack of baby diapers and laid them down in the bottom.

“Southeast Asia will be a piece of cake,” I thought. It’s a backpacker’s dream, right?

Turns out, public transportation and accommodation were the least cat-friendly of the whole trip.

Thailand wouldn’t allow cats on any of their buses.

Laos wouldn’t allow them on buses or trains.

Neither would Vietnam.

So that’s when I got creative with my travel:

I ended up cycling through a good portion of Thailand - I’ve always dreamed of traveling by bicycle, but having Cleo had held me back in the past. How could I cycle across a country with a cat?

After I tried out about ten different bags to carry her in, we found one she liked. And she was happy as a clam cycling with me for an entire seven days.

What You Think Will Be Your Biggest Obstacles Are Often Easily Overcome

While I got too tired to pedal through the mountains in northern Thailand, Cleo was just fine. So once I got to the Laos border, we got creative again.

First, we took a boat for two days from the Huay Xai border to Luang Prabang.

It was easy-peasy making friends on that 2-day boat, from both local people and fellow travelers, having Cleo as the main entertainment during the long boat ride.

Everyone told me there was no way I’d be able to get Cleo on a bus or a train throughout Laos, so I decided to continue on foot. After getting rid of everything I owned (except for my camping gear and my laptop), I strapped on my hiking boots and started walking to Vietnam.

Again, Cleo made a ruckus in the villages we walked through - we got invited for lunch, beer, and even a wedding!

Unfortunately, my feet were covered in agonizing blisters after three days. I gave up and hitched a ride back to Luang Prabang.

”Let’s Just Try It and See What Happens”

This time, I went for mini buses instead of the big tourist overnighters. Cleo was pretty inconspicuous in her little bag, and we were able to get into mini busses that took us all the way down the tourist route through Vang Vieng, Vientiane, and a main point on the Thakek Loop (a popular motorbike route in central Laos).

For all the well-meaning tour guides and backpackers in the Facebook groups, and nomads within the Whatsapp chats, my biggest piece of advice is not to listen when people tell you that you won’t be able to do something.

I wasted a lot of time (and got a lot of blisters) listening to everyone tell me no buses would let Cleo on, yet, all I had to do was quietly walk on and sit nicely in the back and no one cared.

Well, until we got kicked off in the middle of nowhere with a 2-hour walk to the nearest village, that is.

But guess what? A tuk-tuk driver spotted me within a few minutes and gave me a ride to a nearby guest house.

At that guest house, I rented a motorbike and taught myself how to ride it. (I ended up getting one in Vietnam later and riding it across the country).

Ask Locals for Off-the-Beaten-Path Solutions

Instead of trying to get on the big tourist buses to Vietnam, I asked my guesthouse owner if he knew how I could get to the next village. He directed me to a local tuk-tuk taxi taking passengers, and I was able to hop on with some local women transporting their vegetables to the market. I spent the night in the next village, then asked how I could get to the next one.

And that’s how I ended up making it all the way to Vietnam, my end destination: by taking it one village at a time and asking help from the locals.

The Biggest Inconveniences Can Turn Into the Best Experience

Because typical tourist options weren’t available to me with a cat, I got to meet way more local people than most tourists ever do. I can’t tell you how many people I met in hostels or meetups, saying they never got a chance to meet local people, outside of their tours, digital nomad meetups, or coliving spaces.

But I constantly met local people during my eleven months on the road.

• I got invited into houses,
• Tried incredible home-cooked meals,
• Laughed over misunderstandings from language barriers,
• And got to see how real people actually live in these incredible countries.

So did I experience a lot of stress and inconvenience by having a cat with me on this big adventure?

Definitely.

But it was absolutely worth it, because of the wild experiences I had, the meaningful connections I made, and the great stories I have as a result.

So don’t be afraid to pave your own path, and follow your big, crazy ideas. Even if your online research says you won’t be able to. Even if seemingly impossible obstacles get in your way.

Get creative,

Ask for help,

And embrace it all as an experience you’ll never forget.

About the Author

Mia Kercher is a hypnotist and coach, helping people overcome their fears to do courageous, outrageous things. A full-time traveler for 7 years, she’s camped and hiked solo, driven to the Ukraine border to volunteer, and spent 4 years as the only foreigner in a small Serbian town. She mentors travelers and nomads to get out of their comfort zone to have unforgettable experiences, and teaches the copywriting and marketing skills for financial freedom to be able to do it all.

You can find her website at miakercher.com and follow her journey on Instagram.

Have you traveled with a pet? What creative solutions did you discover? Share your experiences and join the conversation about unconventional nomadic adventures.