In 1996 we bought a house in Geneva, at 54, avenue de Champel. It was very close to where we had been living before, but it was much larger. The children each had their own room, including a balcony, while Josée and I had a large room with an ensuite bathroom. The ‘hôtel particulier’ included two large terraces, one giving onto a communal garden, and a second one overlooking the Jura mountains. At the top, there was a guest room, an office and a TV room. There was enough room for everyone and everything.

Both Nico and Pablo were good at sports, but Nico was more adventurous. When he was three, Paul bought for him two or three golf clubs made for his age, and we went together to the driving range at the Golf Club de Chamonix.

After a while, Nico said: ‘I’d like to go and play now.’ ‘You’re too small,’ I said. He started crying and saying: ‘Please Daddy, let me go out and play, like you do!’ ‘OK,’ I said,’ let’s see.’ We both went to see the President of the Golf Club. I explained to him that my son wanted to go out and play. ‘Where’s your son?’ the President asked. ‘I’m here,’ a little voice beside me said. ‘Oh,’ said the President, ‘and how old are you?’ ‘I’m three,’ Nico said. ‘But in nine more months, I’ll be four!’

‘I’m sorry,’ said the President, ‘you’re too small to play, you’ll have to wait.’ Nico then began to cry at the top of his lungs. The little round eyeglasses he was wearing started to get wet, he had to pull them off and started to clean them with his shirt, while he continued sobbing and not moving from the spot. The President watched for a while, then said: ‘Nico, if you promise to do exactly what your father tells you, you can go out and play, but only six holes. And you’ll need to start from the front of the ladies’ tee.’ Nico ran around the counter and started to hug the man’s legs. ‘Thank you, thank you’, he said, ‘I’ll do exactly what Daddy tells me!’

When we arrived at the first hole, there were two Japanese tourists waiting. We were scheduled to play together. The Japanese lady said: ‘But we are supposed to be four people playing, where is the fourth?’ I pointed to Nico. ‘Oh,’ said the lady, ‘you play too?’ ‘Yes,’ said Nico very proudly, and proceeded to play incredibly well. He followed every instruction and walked off the sixth hole like a man who had just set his foot on the moon.

A few weeks later, when I arrived at the golf club, the President asked me to come to his office. There, on his desk, was a photo that the Japanese lady had taken of Nico, with a thank you note saying that it was good to see that the Chamonix Club was fostering young talents. The President kept the photo of Nico and the note in his office for many more years.

From then on, Nico and I would often go to the golf club on Saturday mornings. We were both early birds, so we would get up at 6.30am and leave home at about 7am. On the way to the club, we’d stop at a little bakery in Les Houches and each order hot chocolate plus two pains au chocolat. We would then tee off at 8am and play initially six, then nine holes. At age five, Nico became the youngest player ever to participate in an official tournament at the Chamonix Golf Club. I was the proudest father. These mornings with Nico created an early bond between us. It’s a time I’ll never forget. 

Pablito enjoyed hiking and was extraordinarily resilient. He could walk for hours and hours, so I often took him with me for one or two-day hikes. He rapidly overcame his initial fear of mountain huts and we had many memorable hikes in the Chamonix valley. When he was eight, we went up the Mont Buet together. At over 3000m, it’s a destination that only very fit hikers can attempt to reach. Even in the middle of the summer, the top is often snowcapped. In order to maximise the chances of success, I had booked two nights at the Refuge de la Pierre à Bérard, half way up. But we only spent the first night there. Pablito made it to the top without any problems and insisted on coming all the way down on the second day, without a night stop at the Refuge. He was, if not the youngest, one of the youngest who had ever done this hike in the Chamonix Valley.

I loved these long hikes with Pablo, where I would have time with him alone. He had a very alert and fast mind, and I loved to talk with him about the many subjects that intrigued him.

I was always ready to try new things in the mountains, but not always very conscious of whether my children would be old enough for it. When Nico was three, I hauled him to the top of Prarion Mountain for an overnight camping trip. I bought a huge backpack, big enough to carry two sleeping bags and a tent. Nico carried a smaller backpack, which included a few sausages, four tablets of chocolate and the card game ‘Uno’.

I had consulted the weather forecast, which appeared uncertain, but in my enthusiasm, decided to ignore it. The weather was brightly sunny when we left our chalet in Les Houches, but when we arrived at the top, thick clouds began to gather. We installed the tent and started to gather firewood. It became obvious after a while that it would be difficult to find dry wood, since it had rained in the days before. For about an hour we tried to light a fire, until we ran out of matches. It started to get dark and then to rain. So, we retreated to the tent. The brilliant barbecue of juicy sausages that I had promised to Nico, accompanied by hot marshmallows, heated over the fire on sticks that we would carve ourselves with our pocket knife, turned into a dinner consisting of two tablets of chocolate each. After our ‘dinner’, we played Uno until there was no more light and we fell asleep.

The next morning it had stopped raining, and Nico was happy to run around outside. When he came back, he was soaked to the bone. I had not realised that the grass, which was short for a person of my size, was very tall for a three-year-old. I had no clothes to change Nico into, it was 6°C and it started to rain again. When we finally got home, Nico was on the verge of hypothermia and I was told by Josée in no uncertain terms to stop my mountain experiments until the kids were a bit older.

We didn’t just spend weekends in our chalet in Les Houches, but many holidays too. Nearly always, family members from Canada or Argentina joined us. In the summer, we would do hikes and I would often take the kids camping or rafting. During the winter, it was skiing all day, then fondues, playing games and singing songs. Christmas was a big event, with many presents and a great atmosphere. I loved these get-togethers. They were a lot of work, but enormously rewarding. And, despite the distance, Pablito and Nico grew up feeling close to their cousins, because they saw them so often. In the time before the internet, it was difficult to stay in touch, but our children nevertheless developed a very close relationship with their cousins, something they never lost.

Paul and Sylvia were passionate and devoted grandparents. As soon as Pablito was born, they were at our doorstep and, despite the distance, regularly came to visit their grandchildren in Geneva, often several times per year. ‘Opa’, as Paul quickly came to be known to his grandchildren, loved to sit on the floor and play with them. Sylvia was great at inventing games for them. Opa would spare no effort in trying to be with his grandchildren, and would not hesitate to follow us around wherever we happened to be, even in far-away places, like Sharm El-Sheikh.

Lisl also came to see us, but it was more sporadic and her relationship with Pablito and Nico was more distant. They would get to know her a bit better when, as adolescents, they spent considerable lengths of time in Buenos Aires.

Pablito was Opa and Sylvia’s first grandchild, but they would have 14 in total. As the family grew, they always tried to get everyone together, usually over Christmas, a tradition that we have maintained to this day. In the time when the children were small, sometimes we would all meet in Fort Myers, where Paul and Sylvia had moved permanently. Occasionally we met in Buenos Aires. Sometimes Edi and Pato would come and visit us in Europe and we would travel together. In the summer of 1995, when Nico was just over a year old, we met Edi, Pato and Axel in the Lago d’Orta in northern Italy and then they spent some time with us in Chamonix. Later on, we would meet in other places, such as Brazil.