Pablo, Roberto, and René

While perusing Chile’s major newspaper recently, I was pleasantly surprised to see articles written about two Chilean cultural icons I have followed for decades; writer Pablo Huneeus and pianist Roberto Bravo.

And in the process of remembering the personalities and wonderful works of these men, I am reminded of my colleague and good friend René Lara, who unfortunately left us a few years ago, peacefully but way too early. René introduced me to Pablo and Roberto; I thank him for that, and many other things.

In the 1970s, the US Peace Corps held orientation sessions for incoming Volunteers in a training center on the outskirts of Santiago, in La Reina comuna. The trainees were taught the Spanish language as spoken by Chileans, which is a challenge, given certain idiosycracies of their cavalier and broadly flexible approach to the language. As well, knowledgeable Chileans were brought to the center to lecture on the history, culture, and economics of the country. I was on the staff of the Peace Corps in Chile at this time.

One such lecturer was Rafael Moreno, who earlier had been the leader of the extensive and disruptive agrarian reform. He came to the center several times to talk about agriculture, forestry, the agrarian sector broadly, where many of the Peace Corps Volunteers would live and work.

René Lara, a Chilean anthropologist who had spent several years at a university in the north of Chile, was the head of the training center. René was very plugged in to the academic community in Santiago; he arranged for his friend Pablo Huneuus to participate as another lecturer. I recall that, in spite of a very specific agenda for guest speakers at the center, we never knew what exactly Pablo would talk about with the new Volunteers who were about to embark on their two-year service in Chile. In his thirties at the time, Pablo was an attractive, obviously cultured person. Hence, he was given broad latitude to present what he thought pertinent. His presentations were wide-ranging, full of anecdotes that helped the new arrivals in Chile to see, feel, and smell the new country where they would live. Listening to Pablo talk about Chile was an adventure in itself.

I don’t know what Pablo and René’s friendship stemmed from. Maybe they attended the then-prestigious Instituto Nacional secondary school together, I am sure Rene did study there, but Pablo’s biography has him living his early years in New Jersey, USA. Maybe his and Rene’s families were intertwined, like so many Chilean families. Pablo was one of six siblings born to Virginia Cox, a well-regarded writer in her own right.

Another captivating personality and lecturer at the center was Victoria Fernandez de Cox . “It’s FERNANDEZ de Cox, not Cox”, she would insist, apparently preferring to be seen as Hispanic rather than Anglo. OK.  She helped the Peace Corps orient the new arrivals to sociological aspects of the country. She led very interesting excursions outside of Santiago to places like Caleta Horcón, a small fishing village just northwest of Santiago, where the new arrivals to Chile could get a better feel for the daily lives of normal Chileans, and feast on fresh Chilean seafood.

Pablo, a sociologist with a Doctorate degree from the University of Paris (Sorbonne), has written dozens of books about Chile and Chileans. I am not sure, but I think I met Pablo for the first time at Rene’s home, for one of Rene’s carefully orchestrated dinners. René lived alone, with his loyal housekeeper Emita, in an apartment chuck full of his collections. He collected glass paper weights, old plates used to serve hard boiled eggs, or maybe oysters. His collection of relics from his numerous visits to Egypt and umpteen street markets throughout the world turned an evening at Rene’s into museum night with food. René’s anthropologist lair was a perfect place to meet Pablo the sociologist. I, a trained forester, knew about trees and lumber and the properties of wood, so in the presence of Pablo and René, I mostly listened as they discussed sociological and anthropological stuff. One theme I felt very comfortable with was food, and it came up often during the evening. 

With his characteristic flourish of platters, ornate goblets, and antique silverware, René announced he had prepared his “very unique chupe de locos”. This rich casserole featuring Chilean abalone has been a favorite of mine since stepping foot in Chile. Chilean locos, besides in the chupe format, are often served cooked but cold, topped with a mayonnaise or chopped onion/parsley sauce called salsa verde. Pablo had recently written a book about Chilean food, “Manual Básico de Cocina”, in which he had recognized in the introduction, René’s support with important “tips” about cooking. René was proud of this citation in Pablo’s book, believing, not without reason, that Pablo’s recognition added panache to his own cooking, a priceless endorsement.

Well into René’s meal and more than one bottle of chilled Sauvignon blanc, we were having a very detailed and friendly discussion about how the best “Chupe de locos” is made. Thinking that being candid would lift me to the Pablo/René level on the subject, I suggested that René’s chupe, perhaps, had a bit too much potato in it. In fact, I continued my critique, blindly insisting that the chupe I most enjoy does not even have potato in it. René, clearly incensed by my critique, turned red faced and tense; I could see him searching for a good reply. I began to feel bad about my gaffe. My recollection of the moment may be faulty, but I think it was Pablo who stepped in and calmed the waters with the suggestion that since René had lived for several years in the northernmost Chilean city of Arica, his chupe was more “Peruvian than Chilean”, but equally legit.

René would go on serving his chupe de locos with potato, but from then on he would explain that the recipe was more Peruvian than Chilean. This worked well for him since by then, Peruvian cuisine had taken over Santiago and most people there now gravitated towards Peruvian restaurants. René was in the moment, to be sure.

Pablo’s writings, like his intervention in defense of René’s chupe de locos recipe, explain in a very balanced way, why things are the way they are in Chile, why Chileans are the way they are. His books are very enjoyable reading, especially because he is adept at inserting humor and satire into most everything, and his books are shorter than most. I learned a lot about Chile and Chileans from reading his “La Cultura Huachaca“, “Nuestra Mentalidad Emprendedora”, and “Lo Comido y Lo Bailado“. Pablo explained in language I could understand, the societal divisions that grew to destructive extremes during the Allende and the Pinochet “revolutions”, in his “En Aquel Tiempo, Chile During Allende” and “Que Te Pasó, Pablo”. His concern for protection of the natural environment, especially Chile’s extensive coastal areas, are vividly described in ” Chiloé, Por Hoy No Mas” and  “A Todo Trapo, homenaje a la navegación a vela“.

Many years after having dinner at René’s home with Pablo, I again had the opportunity to talk with him, in the Jumbo grocery store on Avenida Bilbao, where we shop when we are in Chile. I think I actually was of the mind that Pablo was no longer with us. I had not heard anything about him lately, and René was not around to get us together for chupe, Chilean or Peruvian. So seeing Pablo in the Jumbo was a huge surprise.

Right there in front of me was Pablo, standing proud and erect as always, behind a makeshift table set between the aisles of household cleaning supplies and bathroom tissues. He was hawking his books. I was very surprised to see him, but equally pleased, so I took a minute to gather my thoughts, and introduced myself. I think he remembered me. He told me he remembered clearly and fondly his lectures with the Peace Corps, way back then, and of course he said he remembered René.

I did not buy one of his books, there in the Jumbo of Bilbao. I should have, and regret not doing so. There are many of his books I have not read; my loss.

The article in El Mercurio that jogged me to remember Pablo described his latest project. Now 81, Pablo is focused on his recovery from cancer. But he is committed to encouraging others in his age group (80s; tercer edad in Chile) to remain active, both physically and mentally. Of course, he is writing another book. It is entitled “Cancer a Mi“, directed at his cohort, of which I am included. I will anxiously await his new book. Maybe he will be selling the new book in the Jumbo, when I next go to shop there early next year. Mostly, I hope to have at least one more encounter with Pablo Huneeus, whose lectures and writing helped me and so many others, understand the hidden ins and outs of Chilean society.

In January 2020, shortly after the infamous estallido social of 2019, we returned to Chile, all too aware of the disconcerting remains of that event. I needed to see first hand what had happened, so I set out to walk through the epicenter of that event, Plaza Italia, where the Alameda becomes Avenida Apoquindo and Avenida Vicuña Mackenna branches off to the south. It’s here where so much civil fervor and mindless destruction took place. I wandered along those streets for several hours, contemplating the destruction and absorbing the desperation so evident in the faces and body language of the folks I met along the way. But I never described this experience in a posting on this blog. I’m not sure why I did not, for I have checked my photo library for shots taken on that walk, and they are an excellent display of post-estallido despair. It was hard to explain, so I guess I just didn’t try.

I had organized my walk so I would end up at the National Library, an immensely attractive French Neoclassical building, strategically placed in 1813 on an entire city block in what was the center of Santiago, across from Santa Lucía hill. There was motive in my madness. I had read that Roberto Bravo, renowned Chilean pianist, would be presenting a free concert at the Library at one o’clock. I figured, rightly so, as it turns out, that after a walk through the Plaza Italia, past the boarded-up businesses on the Alameda and the first block of Avenida Vicuña Mckenna, and past the burned-out churches in the neighborhood, I would need some spiritual uplifting, and Roberto Bravo’s music provides that, for me and for millions of Chileans.

However, I was a little late, so was hurrying through a short-cut on the campus of the Universidad Catolica, when I missed one of those invisible small steps down, stumbled forward several steps, and landed very ungracefully on my left arm and shoulder on the hard pavement. I picked myself up immediately, gathered my glasses from the ground, and continued on my way, pretending nothing had happened. I could feel the scrape on my arm beginning to bleed, and the pain in my shoulder increasing. But I was determined to get to that Roberto Bravo concert, so after walking a few more blocks, I arrived at the Library. I met Ximena there, she procured a couple of cold bottles of water that I used to keep the pain in my arm under control, and in spite of it all, we enjoyed a wonderful piano concert. Roberto Bravo offered that day, a special concert “to help begin the healing process of this community so divided by the estallido“.

I have followed Roberto Bravo since the 1970s, when, once again, it was René Lara who introduced us. It was during the dictatorship. René had left the staff of the Peace Corps and was working as cultural director at the Chilean-Northamerican Institute. Public cultural activities were scarce, but Rene arranged many events at the Institute to which he invited young Chilean artists and musicians to perform in the small auditorium of the Institute. He invited me to a Roberto Bravo concert, which was fantastic, after which over a smattering of wine and cheese, he introduced us to Roberto.

Since that first concert, we have tried to attend his concerts wherever our paths crossed. We have seen him perform in the Kennedy Center and the ornate ballroom of the Organization of American States building, both in Washington, DC. He often presents concerts rich in pieces written by J.S. Bach, but also has a lively repertoir of songs written for well-known movies. In the last couple of decades, Roberto has performed with young, up and coming vocalists, violinists or pianists, unselfishly helping them along in their careers.

René went on to be head of International Exchange Programs at the Universidad Mayor in Santiago. From that position he helped recruit Roberto to be the first head of their conservatory. Together with René , we tried to arrange a guest musician position for Roberto at the Conservatory at Shenandoah University in Winchester, Virginia, but we failed. Their loss.

The El Mercurio article that refreshed my memory of Roberto Bravo, noted that he had recently played in Argentina, in an activity celebrating 40 years since the peace agreement between that country and Chile after border issues almost led to military intervention between the countries. Roberto Bravo was always about peace.

The article announced that he would be giving two concerts during the following week, the first, at the classic Teatro Nescafé de las Artes, in Providencia on Calle Manuel Montt. This concert will be totally classical music, and he will be accompanied by a young lady violinist and a soprano, plus three small choirs from localities on the coast of Chile. He is presenting this set of musical pieces which, when heard all together, creates space for the “virtuosity of the spirit”. He proposes that “this is really not a concert. It’s like a moment of introspection, meditation and compassion for all the people who are having very difficult times, in all the conflicts that we know. ” He of course is refering to the Ukraine and Gaza. He “almost asks that the public not applaud”. (Take note of the “almost”. That’s Roberto Bravo. He loves applause.) 

I would love to be able to attend this concert, and then slip around the corner for a nice late dinner at the cozy French Bistro the Normandie, with a nice pisco sour to begin coping with so much “virtuosity of the spirit”.

The last time I saw Roberto Bravo was late one evening at the airport in Santiago. I was waiting for Ximena to return from a trip with her high school classmates (las viajeras), to Valdivia. And out walked Roberto. I just watched him walk by, firmly in charge of two roller bags he was travelling with, and out the door. No assistant, nobody stopping him to talk. Simply Roberto Bravo; pure virtuosity.

There are many Chileans I have met through the now more than five decades I have roamed around that lovely country, whom I admire. But there is a special place for Pablo Huneeus and Roberto Bravo, two Chileans who personify the description “Fino“. Chileans use this word to define individuals who are polite and gentile, keen and astute. Few earn that label these days, but Pablo and Roberto are exactly that, and have been throughout their so very productive lives. The books and music they are leaving us is more than notable; they are personify Chile’s best.

Published in Leesburg, Virginia on September 3, 2025

David Joslyn

David Joslyn, after a 45-year career in international development with USAID, Peace Corps, The Inter-American Institute for Cooperation on Agriculture (IICA), The Chicago Council on Global Affairs, and private sector consulting firms, divides his time between his homes in Virginia and Chile. Since 2010, David has been writing about Chile and Chileans, often based upon his experience with the Peace Corps in Chile and his many travels throughout the country with family and friends.