A Report From Wine Explorer Diego Samper
Paris, France
It’s January 16. Two weeks into 2026.
This is the part of the year I enjoy most.
December belongs to external events—dinners, travel, obligations, noise. You move from one thing to the next, often without choosing much at all. January gives you something back: your mornings. I make my coffee. I skim the news. I put on some music. I let the day begin before the world starts asking things of me.
That rhythm feels worth protecting.
Finding Pace in Paris
I’m back in Paris now. The city moves fast. The energy. The pressure to keep up. Paris doesn’t slow down for anyone—it expects you to catch up. I like that intensity, but only once I’ve found my footing. Otherwise, it’s easy to feel carried along by a pace you didn’t choose.
And that’s how a lot of life feels right now.
There’s more of everything. More bottles. More opinions. The news shouting what matters this week. Trends don’t arrive quietly—they push their way in. Media, headlines, feeds. Before you notice, you’re living on someone else’s schedule.
I think many of us feel that.
Time, Attention, and Judgment
I notice it most in restaurants. Places where the phone comes out before the fork. Where everyone photographs the plate and eats later. Nothing is wrong, exactly—but the room never quite settles. The conversation never fully arrives.
When you start thinking about time—really thinking about it—judgment becomes important. Maybe even rare.
I see it at home, too. Opening Netflix and being told what I might like. What’s trending. What everyone else is watching right now. It’s convenient. But convenience isn’t the same as satisfaction. I’ve clicked on the most talked-about thing more than once, only to turn it off halfway through and wonder where the evening went.
A lot of what’s trending isn’t really asking for your attention. It’s asking for your time. And not everything deserves it. Some things have to pass the test of time first.
Am I behind the trends? Probably. I’m fine with that.
You don’t have to chase what’s loud to build something that lasts. Most things that do last were built quietly, over time, by people who knew what they cared about and stayed with it.
The Romans had a word for this: curatio. Care as a practice, not a reaction. Tending to what matters so it lasts.
That’s how I think about this club.
Why Conversation Matters
Life is better with conversation.
Not because we always get it right, but because conversation creates space. Space to listen. Space to disagree. Space to adjust and do better next time.
That’s how this club works. We’re not trying to score a perfect selection or prove we have all the answers. We’re paying attention. We’re learning together. Each bottle, each note, each exchange sharpens the next choice.
That’s the kind of friction that matters—the human kind. The pause. The back-and-forth. The willingness to sit with uncertainty for a moment. It’s exactly what algorithms are designed to remove, and exactly what they can never replace.
And we’re having fun doing it.
The time spent tasting, debating, narrowing things down—that’s part of the pleasure on our side. I hope that care carries through when you open a bottle at home. That it adds something to the evening, the table, the people you’re sharing it with.
Being part of this club isn’t just about the bottles. It’s the exchange around them.
Between Collections
Some of the best moments happen between collections. The emails back and forth. The questions about a wine you opened last weekend. The notes about what surprised you, what you’d buy again, what you’d pass on.
Those conversations matter to us. They shape how we choose and where we focus next.
If something moved you, confused you, or simply made you curious, you can write any time at explorers@bonnerprivatewines.com.
That access—that responsiveness, that sense that someone is actually paying attention—is what makes this feel different. More personal. More considered. A little more exclusive, not because it’s closed off, but because it’s cared for.
Choosing the Right Doors
I like the city. I also like stepping away from it. I move between the two. I need both. Dances with Wolves stayed with me for that reason. It wasn’t about disappearing from the world. It was about stepping into a different rhythm, learning from it, and knowing you could return without losing yourself.
There are a lot of doors these days.
Opening the right ones is what matters.
If you’re part of the club, you’re already inside.
And if you’re not yet, you can still join us here.
Cheers,
Diego Samper
Wine Explorer
P.S. If you haven’t signed up yet for next week’s Investing in Argentina event on January 19, you can register here. A recording will also be available.
