Soccer World Cup post-mortem

It’s with increasing pleasure and excitement that we have watched the 2026 Soccer World Cup. Without adding to what all of you have seen, read or thought, I just wanted to share my impression that might shine some new light or show a different view on the whole series of events. 

First, it took us some time to get in the mood and catch a certain rhythm as we are notoriously poor team sport spectators. We hardly see any, whether it’s NFL football, basketball, hockey or baseball. We’d rather do the sport than watch it! 

Next, we were shocked at the players’ rough behavior on the field. It seemed to us that it was perceived by players as worth taking a chance the referee wouldn’t see the fault, which confirmed itself as a fair probability. As spectators, we can see fault very easily and quite clearly because of the 3-D view the camera affords us, while the referee is far from enjoying the same visual luxury! 

Of course, we rooted both for the US and France, and while the former was a victim of Trump’s trickery, the latter disappointed us as the going got tough and the opponents harder to beat. 

As a French exiled from my home country since 1977, I had a tough time squaring up with a national team composed in its vast majority of players of African origin. Both England and Spain had teams that looked more representative of their respective population. 

Maybe it’s a sign that I’m overdue to return to France for a visit… Finally, we were delighted that Spain won. "¡Viva España!"

Learning a language with IA (Part Two)

In the previous blog, we’ve seen that when the topic is meaningful, my brain is more likely to remember. So today we’ll see how variations can tremendously amplify my learning if I incorporate them in my conversations. 

To achieve that, I plan to take a given topic and redo it once in simple Spanish, once in a more complex version, once using only the past tense, then the future and maybe – only maybe - using subjunctive triggers (“aunque”, “cuando”, “si”, “ojalá”). All this to build flexibility, not just vocabulary. It’s also my plan to prioritize listening as much as speaking by asking TalkPal to speak at native speed, slightly slower and with regional accents (Spain, Mexico, Argentina, Chile).

Based on my experience I know that listening is the bottleneck, so if I can understand fast Spanish, speaking becomes much easier. Along with speed, I’m also planning to ask for corrections in a selective manner. If TalkPal were to corrects everything, I would lose flow, but if it fails to correct me I’ll fossilize mistakes. 

I’ll ask: “Solo corrige errores importantes que cambian el significado.” or “Déjame hablar libremente y corrige al final.” Hopefully, this will keep the conversation natural. When I get good at conversing, I plan to push into emotional and philosophical topics, areas I enjoy talking about. Things like aging, dreams, fear, meaning, mountains life, lessons learned throughout my life and reflection on time that goes far too fast. If I can succeed with all this, I’ll be able to track my progress in comfort, not perfection. 

For this I’ll make my own measurements by asking: 

• Am I hesitating less? 
• Am I thinking more in Spanish? 
• Am I recovering from mistakes faster? 
• Am I enjoying the conversation more? 

All these elements are the real markers of fluency. But again, when the real hurdle to learning languages is the fear of being judged and looking stupid. I only need to keep in mind at all time that I’m interacting with a robot that sounds and talk to me just like a human, but this might be a tall call… 

Wish me good luck!

Learning a language with IA (Part One)

After learning Spanish with Duolingo two years ago, I felt that I had accumulated enough knowledge to tackle conversation, something the popular language learning method” seemed ill-equipped to provide. I'm now moving on with the halo of AI and the TalkPal app. I now need to practice my conversation and I suspect that I’ll have to retool my approach to make the best out of that new technology.

After learning more than three extra languages, I know that I’m entering the most important phase of language learning — conversation — and after quite a bit a research, I turn to TalkPal because I found it to be the best bridge between structured learning (Duolingo) and real‑world fluency. The key for me now is to use the tool in a way that forces my brain to operate in Spanish rather than “translate into Spanish.” 

Obviously, TalkPal shouldn’t be treated just like a quiz, but like a teacher (albeit a robotic one!) This is no time either to ask it for vocabulary lists or grammar explanations, as I’m already supposed to know those from Duolingo. Instead, the new tool should be used a conversation partner.

I should tell it stories, describe my day, argue a point, ask for opinions, express emotions make mistakes and keep going, the goal being flow, not correctness. Of course, I’ve learned a long time ago, that when learning a language I must immerse myself into it, so there’s no English (or French) unless it’s absolutely necessary. 

Based on that premise, if I don’t know a word, I use several to express what it means and describe it in Spanish: 

“Es como…” 

“Es una cosa que…” 

“Sirve para…” 

“Parece…” 

This is one of the most powerful fluency skills and I make it mine! When I learned English, adult beverages helped me a lot as I was shy and afraid to look like a fool. In using TalkPal to simulate real situations by creating scenarios that matter to me, like booking a hotel in Madrid, asking for help on a hike in Patagonia, discussing architecture or mountain climate, reminiscing about Park City glorious winters or just planning a trip with my wife. 

I could also use it for explaining my philosophy about aging and dreams (in Spanish!) In the next blog, we’ll see how I can fine tune my learning to my advantage...

Aging: running out of time and dreams (Part Two)

To pursue on that subject of ambition vs. curiosity, let me add that dreams may shrink in size but they grow in intensity. Curiosity is the antidote to the fear of limited time because it doesn’t require a future — only a present. At that point, it’s time to stop asking dreams to justify themselves. 

As we age, we demand that dreams be practical, meaningful, efficient, worth the time and the energy, but dreams don’t survive interrogation, they just survive permission. True, dreams don’t need guarantees; they need oxygen. And oxygen comes from allowing ourselves to explore without demanding a return on investment.

We must also use mortality as a focusing lens, not a threat. This is perhaps counterintuitive but extremely powerful. When time feels infinite, dreams scatter, but when time feels finite, dreams sharpen. To this, we could add that the awareness of limited time can either suffocate dreams or distill them. The trick is to let mortality clarify what truly matters instead of letting it intimidate us. 

Let’s also not forget that the biggest barrier to dreaming later in life is the belief that dreams must be large. This said the mind blooms when the dream is actionable, immediate, sized to fit our time-frame and emotionally resonant. A dream that begins today is a dream that survives. There’s no question that getting older is tricky because time suddenly feels like a narrow corridor instead of a wide, open plain. 

When we sense that the future is limited or uncertain, dreams become timid — they hesitate, they hide, or they never germinate at all. Still, dreams don’t disappear because we age; they disappear because we start demanding guarantees. We ask them to justify themselves, to prove they’re worth the time, the energy, the risk. And under that pressure, they retreat. 

So let’s remember that the way forward is to make dreaming lighter again. To shift from lifelong ambitions to seasonal ones. To replace ambition with curiosity. To let mortality sharpen our focus instead of dulling our imagination. Dreams bloom when they’re small enough to begin today, gentle enough not to intimidate us, and meaningful enough to stir something inside us. 

Time may be limited, but imagination isn’t — and the mind remains fertile as long as we give it permission to wander, explore, and play.

Aging: running out of time and dreams (Part One)

Getting older isn't for the faint at heart as we are under a pretty strong impression that the time ahead of us is more than limited and uncertain. So it’s pretty obvious that when we feel boxed-in in such a way, whatever dream we might generate gets scared, runs away in a hurry or doesn't even bother to germinate into our minds... 

The interrogation we’re left with is how can they pop-up into our mind and bloom no matter the time constraints we’re imposing on them? This is one of those questions that sits right at the intersection of psychology, philosophy, and the essence of aging.

When time feels finite, our mind becomes conservative. Dreams don’t die because we’re older; they die because the mind becomes like a risk‑averse accountant, constantly calculating “Is it worth it?” instead of "Let's try it" or “What if?” For instance, “Should I even buy a ski season pass this year? There's no absolute guarantee that I will make it through the winter, right?” The thought captures the emotional truth of that shift.

What we can add — and what will make our reflection more powerful, is a clearer articulation of how dreams still can emerge and thrive even under the pressure of limited time. What I’m convinced of, is about the psychological contraction of aging: that boxed‑in feeling is real. Then there’s the fragility of dreams under time pressure and the existential tension of still wanting to bloom while fearing the clock. One solution to that quandary is to shift from “lifelong dreams” to “seasonal dreams”. 

When we’re young, dreams are grand arcs, but as we grow older, dreams need to become seasonal in order to fit into our timeframe and thrive. They turn into smaller, sharper and more immediate inspirations. All dreams don’t need 20 years. They can be a 6‑month project, a 3‑week exploration or just a 1‑day experiment. Our minds need a proper scale in order to bloom!  

There’s another way to improve that situation by replacing ambition with curiosity. Ambition is heavy, curiosity is much lighter. If ambition asks, “Will this succeed?” curiosity asks, “What happens if I try?” We’ll continue that discussion tomorrow and explore that subtle change from ambition to curiosity, so if you're curious, please return!

A simple passive solar detail

Ever since I came to live in Park City, I’ve placed enormous importance on choosing a home site with true southern exposure. 

After spending a quarter century in a shaded location, back in the Alps, where my parents’ home received only a few hours of winter sun, I learned firsthand how profoundly mountain sunlight affects both comfort and morale. Of course, site orientation is only half the equation — architecture must do the rest. 

At 7,000 feet, our sun is stronger, our winters are colder, and our skies are clearer, which makes solar geometry one of the most powerful and overlooked design tools. I’ve always been surprised by how little attention many local architects give to passive‑solar principles. 

When we built our home in 2013, I insisted on deep south‑facing eaves — in our case, 7 feet — to block the high summer sun while welcoming the low winter sun. At this latitude, the sun’s altitude swings nearly 47° between seasons, so a well‑designed overhang can dramatically reduce summer heat gain while providing free warmth in winter. 

The photo below was taken on July 7, shortly after the summer solstice at 11 a.m. MDST, and it shows exactly how the eaves perform: full shade in summer, full sun in winter.

Passive solar isn’t complicated — it’s simply good mountain architecture.

Roland Collombin, 1951-2026

Roland Collombin was a legendary Swiss World Cup alpine ski racer, two-time World Cup downhill champion, and Olympic silver medalist. He passed away on July 10, 2026, at the age of 75 following a two-year battle with cancer. 

A ski daredevil, Collombin dominated downhill racing in the 1973/1974 ski season before sustaining some devastating spinal injuries that cut his career short at 24. He captured back-to-back Downhill Crystal Globes in 1973 and 1974. 

Taming the notorious Streif, he won the dangerous Hahnenkamm downhill race in Kitzbühel twice, in 1973 and 1974, setting a course record during his second victory. Collombin’s high-risk, high-reward racing style led to a tragic relationship with the Oreiller-Killy piste in Val d'Isère. In December 1974, he suffered a severe spine injury during a training crash that sidelined him for the entire season. 

In December 1975, as he attempted a comeback, he crashed violently at the exact same spot, fracturing two vertebrae and was temporarily paralyzed. That jump became known as "La Bosse à Collombin" (the Collombin Bump). In these days, I was ski instructing at Avoriaz and working as a volunteer on January 12, 1974 on the Jean Vuarnet downhill course there, and Collombin’s passing brought back some key memories. 

The night before the race, I got together at “Chez Caroline”, a Morzine bar-nightclub, with my friend Jean-Pierre Chatellard, then coach of the French team and Scott Henderson, coach of the Canadian downhillers that would soon become the “Crazy Canucks”. 

These days, even though I loved ski instructing, I was desperately looking for a year-round job, instead of this seasonal job, I also had no real desire to set up a souvenir shop or run a restaurant in Les Lindarets for the rest of my life. 

Just the three of us downed a bottle of whiskey among other beverages. While reminiscing and conversing, Chatellard whom I had not seen since 1972 in Australia, gave me a few serious leads for jobs in the ski industry that I followed to the letter and finally got me into me inside that area of the ski biz. 

The next day as we were side-slipping a frozen race-run, I was experiencing the worst hangover of my entire life, but I survived and Roland Collombin won that race!