Travelling the world with Diet Dr. Pepper

Last Updated on July 10, 2019 by PowersToTravel

My husband Greg Powers is a Diet Dr. Pepper addict. He has loved Dr. Pepper since he was 12 years old, since the day he tasted it at a roadside restaurant on his way to summer camp. At the age of eighteen, he joined the Air Force, and when they placed him in the weight-control program he discovered Diet Dr. Pepper.  He realized his life’s path was now set and could envision his future for years to come; he loved it.   He did and does consume more than two liters of Diet Dr. Pepper per day.

At least he thought his path was set in stone. Then he met me through an Internet dating site.  He had just moved to Massachusetts from Virginia and was living in an apartment carved out of an old biscuit factory, in downtown Newburyport, a tourist town on the Merrimack River, near the sea at Plum Island.    The apartment had two bedrooms, a bath, a tiny kitchen and living/dining room.  It was all that I had dreamed of living in, as we quickly became a couple, the apartment so quaintly colonial, warmed by several brick walls, overlooking the town square and the river.

As over the next six months our relationship turned into an engagement, I realized that he really, really, likes Diet Dr. Pepper. I am a diabetic, and I like Diet Coke, so his taste didn’t seem extraordinary to me.

It was about a month before our wedding when he went to the loft in his new apartment and began to unpack his collection. I had seen some boxes lying about, and thought nothing of having some unpacked boxes after a move, especially when someone as entertaining as I had been keeping him very busy.

“I have a collection of Dr. Pepper memorabilia,” he announced. “I want to get it up before everyone arrives for the wedding.”

That seemed natural. I have seventy-five ginger jars.  I like them to be properly displayed in the huge curio I spent twelve hundred dollars for, twenty years ago.

I gave him his space, his loft and his work that day, awaiting the final presentation. He led me up the narrow wrought-iron circular staircase to the loft.  My senses were assailed by maroon and white:  jerseys, and mugs, signs and clocks, bottles and cans, even Dr. Pepper muffin mix.

“Did you know about this before you got engaged?” my mother asked me the next weekend. The same question was repeated several times through the wedding weekend.

“No.”

It is important to note at this point in my narrative that we recently celebrated our fifth anniversary of the day we met, and this summer will celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary.     Dr. Pepper has grown and blossomed in our love, but he has not escaped his room.  That fact that our living room curtains hang from the window in a deep red flowing chiffon, exactly matching the red flower pots in the room are entirely coincidental.  If you didn’t get shown to the Dr. Pepper room, you wouldn’t really be aware of the connection.

In the fall, after our wedding, we moved from Newburyport to Hanscom Air Force Base near Bedford Massachusetts. Greg had gotten a job in Norwood, and with my job in Tewksbury, the base was the half-way point, and allowed military retirees to rent homes there.  We hired a local mover to pack both Greg’s apartment, and my house in Ayer.  This was a major event, in which all of our possessions would move in together.  The mover assigned his wife to the job of hand-packing the entire Dr. Pepper room.  She was not sad when the job was finally done, but I believe her arm muscles were three times larger.

In our new large townhouse apartment, Dr. Pepper was once again given a room of his own. Originally the room downstairs was to be my office, and Dr. Pepper was assigned a small bedroom on the second floor.  However we quickly realized that Dr. Pepper was larger than that room.  I graciously swapped.  The reason there is a blank space on the wall, is the Dr. Pepper-red futon had just been sold, to make room for more display cases.

Our first vacations were drives in the US, first to his folks in Virginia, then on a quick honeymoon in New Hampshire.  It did not seem odd that he had invested in a plug-in cooler that fit on the floor behind the driver’s seat in the car.  I benefited from the cooler as well:  my leftovers were kept fresh, my insulin was protected.  I valued his cooler and his Diet Dr. Pepper.

Our real honeymoon to Belize in 2012 was our first international trip. We spent one week in a small jungle resort, and both of us were forced to buy Diet Coke at inflated prices.  I was happy to have the diet beverage, being both a diabetic and a coffee-hater.  The trip lasted only a week, and Greg seemed to be happy enough with our honeymoon to not focus on his Diet Dr. Pepper deprivation.

Iceland was our next destination, in the spring of 2013. Greg had never traveled for pleasure internationally before he met me.  He had been in the Air Force and had lived and traveled many years ago in the Philippines, South Korea and Japan, but he always had access to a military commissary and never felt afraid of losing his best friend, Diet Dr. Pepper.

With his experience in Belize under his belt, he searched the internet carefully before our Iceland trip. Diet Dr. Pepper…. Diet Dr. Pepper.    He could not find it sold in Iceland.  Perhaps he was sorry we had already purchased our plane tickets, I don’t know.  I had visited Iceland in 2004 with my parents, and knew that with a waterfall around every turn he would be very happy.

After arriving in Iceland, before heading to Reykjavik, we stopped in the small town of Keflavik to find soda. In spite of the Internet not providing Greg with information, he still hoped to find his Diet Dr. Pepper.  In the little convenience store all we found were the typical diet colas.  He settled on some Coke Zero.  We spent that day trying to sightsee and finally collapsed in our hotel room.  Slightly recovered the next morning, our first stop was at the largest grocery store in Iceland.  No Diet Dr. Pepper presented himself.

Greg managed to survive and enjoy our trip to Iceland. It’s one of his favorite locations in the world.

Scotland became our next adventure three months later. It was my 50^th birthday, and to visit to that point in my life Scotland was my favorite place to visit.  I just love the wide open skies, the winds, the scenery and the remoteness of the northern highlands and the islands.  With some trepidation, Greg threw himself into the trip planning, as once again he found that Diet Dr. Pepper was not sold in Scotland.

That didn’t stop him from going into Somerfield’s, a SPAR and other British groceries stores, hoping against hope.   Interestingly enough, it was on our fourth to last day, as we ate in the café at Craithes Castle near Aberdeen, that Greg bumped into Dr. Pepper Zero, never seen before and never again in Scotland.  He saved the bottle for his collection upstairs.

Upon our return, he began to look forward to our “trip of a lifetime”, our safari to Tanzania.   He had become resigned at this point to the fact that the world as a whole is not a fan of Diet Dr. Pepper.    He knew that we would not go to grocery stores and that we would spend eleven days in a Land Rover with an open roof, and a cooler.

Greg is an out-of-the-box thinker. It is sometimes very entertaining to experience the interesting twists he can turn to almost any problem. He put his mind to this dilemma.  He had now traveled abroad three times without Diet Dr. Pepper, and Coke Zero was to him a very sad alternative.  He discovered, that, surprisingly, we were allowed to bring two suitcases apiece on the flight to Amsterdam, and also on the onward flight to Mount Kilimanjaro Airport.  He researched forums and regulations and could find nothing for or against soda in the belly of a plane.    The planes we would be on would have pressurized holds, and liquids were allowed.  No sooner than he discovered that, did he rummage through the large variety of combined suitcases we had brought to our marriage, to find the perfect size to fit approximately six six-packs of twenty ounce plastic bottles of Diet Dr. Pepper.  He also made sure to select a suitcase which would not break my heart if it got ruined.  He packed the Diet Dr. Peppers tightly in a cocoon of bubble wrap.

We flew across the Atlantic Ocean, then the Mediterranean Sea, finally arriving the next evening in Tanzania.  We waited for quite a while in the immigration line, paying for our visas.  I was nervous about the suitcase of Diet Dr. Pepper.  Would they be suspicious of us?   No.  We picked up our suitcases and immediately our driver found us and we were off to our lodge for our first night.

The Rivertrees Lodge was a romantic compound outside of Arusha. Our little bungalow had a king-sized bed with mosquito netting.  The porters had carefully arranged our suitcases in the room.  Greg, ignoring me, dove across the room to check out his stash.    He opened the suitcase and all was present, accounted for and intact.  A small slip of paper sat on top of the bottles: “This suitcase has been inspected”.  We burst into laughter imagining the TSA inspector’s surprise.  “A suitcase of Diet Dr. Pepper?”  Naturally it was important to take a picture of such an important member of our trip.

Greg had previously calculated his per day allowance, and I knew I was not included. What has not been said to this point is that at Greg’s recommendation I also had packed an extra suitcase.  Mine included Diet Coke, in a lesser quantity than Diet Dr. Pepper, dried fruit, beef jerky and other prepared, preserved foods.  I had been so afraid of the food in Tanzania and so worried about my diabetes that I wanted always to have food at hand.

So, off we went in our private safari vehicle, guide Mweta looking shocked at our suitcase count. Luckily Greg had previously Googled and calculated the size of the luggage area and determined that our luggage would fit, and it did.  However, our arrival every evening turned into a major event as Mweta had to remove most of the luggage while Greg removed his Diet Dr. Pepper allowance, and my next day’s allowance of Diet Coke, and I scrambled for clean clothes for the next day.

It is really not relevant to this story, however I ate little of the prepared food I had brought. Of course I ate the granola bars, but I found the food at the camps at night both delicious and plentiful.

Greg struggled through the trip trying to make and keep his soda cold. He just hates warm soda.  In the camps at night, he would ask a waiter to put his soda in the cooler, and they would graciously do so, and during the day it would live in the cooler in the vehicle.  However, the vehicle cooler just didn’t keep the soda cold enough, so he would beg the staff for extra ice to pack around his soda.  It wasn’t until the last day of the trip that Mweta happened to say, “Oh, I could make the temperature colder.”  We guess he was so used to Europeans with their taste for warm soda.

It was in Tanzania we started a new tradition – the photo opportunity with Diet Dr. Pepper.   Greg insisted I take a picture of him, in his tropic-wear and safari hat, enjoying a cold one in front of the Serengeti National Park sign.

However I may laugh at Greg and his obsession, both he and his obsession make me feel so safe, because my insulin rides along for free with Diet Dr. Pepper. I know Greg is always watching the temperature of his soda, and he has so graciously added my insulin to his care.

Our next international adventure was to the Galapagos Islands. I’m starting to sound a bit repetitious when I say that Greg Googled for the Diet Dr. Pepper status of that destination.  Do we care about the political or health situation?  Of course, we do, but once the destination is chosen, what consumes Greg more is the Diet Dr. Pepper status of the country.

Once again, that little corner of the world was not enlightened to the pleasure of Diet Dr. Pepper, and sadly, we were limited to only one suitcase apiece. In addition, published regulations don’t allow tourists to bring any food products to the islands.  Greg, ever inventive, found Dr. Pepper Bubble Gum on Amazon.com and purchased a large quantity.  As we rode in the small panga boat around the islands, and hiked to the views and walked among the iguanas,  Dr. Pepper was always at our side, this time, in the form of gum.    Greg even offered some gum to the Swiss on the small ship with us, and they were sadly not impressed.

In Costa Rica, Greg had higher hopes. There are many ex-pat Americans living in Costa Rica, and he located on the Internet a supermarket that carried it.  We had arranged for a private van to take us to our hotel, and we asked the driver to stop at that particular grocery store, hoping against hope.  However that grocery store was far out of our way, and the traffic was very heavy.   They stopped the vehicle at another grocery store.  The guide assisted us in the store, trying to offer us Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi.  “No,” sadly Greg responded, “Only Diet Dr. Pepper.”

During the transfer to a small airport the next day, to take the tiny 4-seater plane to Tortuguero, Greg asked the new guide for a store to search for Diet Dr. Pepper. “Oh, I know where one can buy that,” announced the girl, “but we aren’t going that way, and we don’t have time.  I’ll make sure that someone goes there and we’ll send it on the next flight.”

We were staying at Tortuga Lodge and Gardens, which is owned by Costa Rica Expeditions. Costa Rica Expeditions is a full service travel agency; they provide transport to and from the airports, arrange charter flights.  We even stayed at two of their hotels.  So, the offer made by the girl was within reason, and Greg believed her.

The next day Greg asked for his soda, and no one on staff knew anything about it. Finally, on the second day he asked the right person, and we found Diet Dr. Pepper alive and well in the refrigerator in the bar.  “Oh, someone told us it was shipped here, but we didn’t know what to do with it. “  They tried to make Greg pay bar charges for his soda, and he successfully insisted it belonged to him   I must say, however, I don’t remember that he paid for the case. He drank so many cans that day, and on our departure, he carried the remainder on the little sixteen-person airplane, to tide him over a little longer.

While in Tortuguero, Greg discovered that Walmart carried Dr. Pepper, and a Walmart was located within a mile of the international airport.  We flew back to San Jose to the small airport, and as they transported us over to the International Airport for our next flight to Drake Bay, we stopped at the Walmart.   He bought two six-packs, with plans to put them into the packed luggage for our next flight.    When we arrived at the airport, we found ourselves in a small separate terminal, for small domestic flights.    With Dr. Pepper safely in Greg’s suitcase, we discovered that we were forced to pay baggage fees for overweight luggage. If only we had packed one in my suitcase we might have been balanced.  Oh, well, the extra fee was a small price to pay for Greg’s happiness.

Dare I even say more about Costa Rica? On our return from Drake Bay, another stop at Walmart was accomplished, and that tided him through the remainder of the trip.

It’s time for a pause in this narrative.  Take a sip, relax.

It may seem extraordinary to the reader, but I’m only about half-way through story of my life so far with Diet Dr. Pepper. Greg carried Diet Dr. Pepper in a separate suitcase to Albania and Montenegro, and then to Morocco.  In both locations, our drivers were startled to find that the evening re-arrangement of suitcases always included a apportioning and inventory of Diet Dr. Pepper.   Photo stops were made along the way to include Diet Dr. Pepper in the record of the trips.

Greg certainly became comfortable with our eastern destinations, Europe and Africa, because somehow we kept arranging planes that would let us take two suitcases. In the case of Albania, we traveled on Turkish Air.  We were hesitant, thinking it would be “rinky-dink-air”, but the service was excellent and the seats just fine.  To Morocco we flew on Royal Air Maroc, once again hesitantly, but with great success.

In Morocco we were driving through the southern town of Erfoud on our way to Merzouga, our camel ride and night out in the Sahara. Greg had been drinking his Diet Dr. Pepper that day, of course, and had used the leftover bottle as a small garbage container.  We stopped at Morabit Marbre, a center for excavating and polishing fossils from the Sahara.  The Sahara had formerly been underwater, and the pressure over the years had captured mollusks, and snails and other creatures into huge hunks of stone.  With powerful saws and polishing equipment the manufacturer had transformed the stone into wall décor, sinks, countertops and smaller souvenirs.  Most significantly the machines drilled cores of stone in the process of making sinks, and they polished them into Coke “bottles”.

Ever thinking outside the box, Greg asked, “Can you make me a Dr. Pepper bottle?”

That request created some confusion, and Greg sprinted to our car to retrieve his bottle, now filled with wrappers and junk, to show the man. Oualid, our guide, was quick to tell the man that we would be passing by the shop one day later, as we left the Sahara.

“Yes.” It could be done, in twenty-four hours.  On our return Greg picked up his polished facsimile Dr. Pepper bottle, perhaps the only one in the world.

In flying to Central and South America we were not allowed that extra bag, and Greg scrambled for Diet Dr. Pepper.  After Costa Rica, Walmart became synonymous with Dr. Pepper.  In the Yucatan, we spent the first several hours locating it.  Imagine Greg’s shock when we shopped first at the regular Walmart in Cancun to find no Diet Dr. Pepper.  Over a quick Tacoria lunch we found that there was another, larger Walmart Superstore nearby. We arrived and to his great relief, he was able to stock up on Dr. Pepper Zero.  He also found that a special was on, and he got free Dr. Pepper chilly cups.  They traveled around our trunk for the entire sixteen day trip. Just to be safe, a week later, out near Merida, we spotted a Walmart Supercenter and stocked up on some more.

Diet Dr. Pepper is not sold outside of the United States, but when available it is called Dr. Pepper Zero. Similar to the comparison of Coke Zero to Diet Coke, the flavor is not quite the same.  Greg’s opinion is that Diet Dr. Pepper is the better of the two.

How appalling to be an American abroad, and feel that one is more in touch with the local culture than the average traveler, and yet be constantly on the lookout for a Walmart. I feel that I blend in more with the locals, with my Diet Coke.  I guess I am just not discriminating enough.

However, all does not come up roses in our travels. Greg was greatly disappointed in Puerto Rico this past winter.  We stopped at three Walmarts looking for it, and came up empty.  Puerto Rico is just peppered with Walmarts, and apparently they are not on the same page with the Costa Ricans and the Mexicans.    We tried CVS and found only regular Dr. Pepper.  The sugar in regular Dr. Pepper is not acceptable to Greg, so that was no consolation.  We tried Walgreens and a local supermarket.

The next morning, Greg was on the phone first thing with the Commissary at Fort Buchanan, near San Juan. “Do you have Diet Dr. Pepper?  It must be diet.”

They did indeed, and we traveled forty minutes there and forty minutes back, with Diet Dr. Pepper now stowed safely in the trunk.  I used to think that joyous smile was only for me, but now I know I have to share it with Dr. Pepper.

In Peru we were unable to find even a Walmart. What more can I say?  It was Diet Coke all the way, that is, until one evening in a small village in the Sacred Valley in the Andes, called Ollantaytambo.   That evening we took a tuk-tuk, a small motorcycle with a carriage for two attached, up to the town center for dinner.  We strolled in the fresh air and gazed in wonder at the ancient Incan ruins looking down on us from the mountain above the village.  We stopped in a tiny convenience store.  It was chock full of American products – cosmetics and snacks, and wonder of wonders – regular Dr. Pepper.  At this point in the trip, approximately ten days without Diet Dr. Pepper, even the more fattening and less preferred version provoked excitement.  Diet Coke was sold for only eighty-cents apiece and the Dr. Peppers for about two dollars apiece.  They were a luxury product.  Greg bought four.

We are now waiting to go on our next trips to Norway in the summer and to Portugal in the fall. Greg wonders what challenges will await him there.  

Meanwhile, Dr. Pepper is not only a beverage; it is a passion with Greg.

In 2014 we took my parents to Big Bend National Park in Texas for my father’s eightieth birthday, to hike and photograph. However, Greg planned the trip with one extra private day for the two of us – to visit Waco and the Dr. Pepper Museum.

We’ve moved twice in five years, landing in an extraordinary townhouse in Newport, Rhode Island, our patio directly overlooking Newport harbor.  We hired the same mover who had moved us into Hanscom to move us to Newport.  It was with a resigned look in her eyes and an audible sigh the mover’s wife entered our home in Hanscom to pack up the Dr. Pepper room again.  We hope not to move again, and certainly wouldn’t want to put her through the torture once more.

In Newport we live in Navy housing for the Naval War College. We live on  Fort Adams State Park, and have views over the water to the town of Newport. We are strange neighbors – an enlisted Air Force retiree and his wife, bumping shoulders daily with officers who are training to be the next top leaders of our military.

Meanwhile, Dr. Pepper owns the fine third bedroom: walls, ceilings and floor are entirely covered with pictures, carpets, clocks, scarves, a bowling ball, soccer ball and even a guitar.   Why don’t you take a peak?   You’ll have to go in, since Dr. Pepper is not allowed out, just in liquid form.

Here’s a link to Greg’s other Dr. Pepper finds, throughout the world!