The other day I made a new discovery about Seville that I never expected to discover. In a pueblo in the province of Seville, which consists of no more than 25,000 people, around 700 people happen to have a family name from over 10,000 kilometres away – japón (Japan).
As it turns out, it was an event from long before the day I made this discovery that allowed this to happen. Fifteen generations of what I assumed to be born and bred andaluces are holding onto the family name of their ancestors. Yep, you guessed it. The Japanese.
How did ‘Japón’ become a common surname in a sleepy Spanish village?
In the early 17th century a famous samari, known as Hasekura Tsunenaga, led what was known as the “Keicho Embassy” – the first official diplomatic mission by the Japanese to Europe which was ordered by Date Masamune, to visit the Pope in Rome, gain political and religious support for Japanese converts to Christianity, and of course, to establish business contacts which marked the beginning of a beautiful Japan/Spain trading relationship.
While travelling up the Guadalquivir River to Seville, the mission passed by the village that is now known as Coria del Río. While the mission continued onto Madrid and Rome, some of the members of the mission decided to settle in Coria del Río – they knew about the persecution of Christianity in their country, so why not stay in a place where they could practice their religion safely? Though aside from a newfound religious freedom, they also varied the gene pool of the local ethnic makeup and created an interesting little piece of history, one that is, still today, virtually unknown to many.
Even the local boardwalk is named after the “Keicho” mission which took place in the 16th century and led to some Japanese settling in what is now a sleepy village in Andalucía
A plaque to mark the planting of the cherry blossom tree in the village of Coria del Rio in southern Spain
Japanese heritage in Coria del Río
From the Spanish point of view, some ancestors of the Japanese have visited small villages in Japan and have commented that the villagers looked similar to close family members and children. Though if you prefer tangible statistics rather than – perhaps biased – opinions, Coria del Río is recorded as having the highest instance in the world of the “Mongolian Spot” on children of full Caucasian descent, a temporary birthmark which is occurs to over 90% of Asian babies.
But despite the Japanese heritage being held onto by the people from Coria del Río, until relatively recently, the existence of this surname in a small Spanish pueblo, and this little slice of Spain’s twisted past, was completely unknown to Japan.
How did the Japanese find out?
In 1989, during the commemoration of the founding of the city of Senai – the Japanese city where both Date Masamune and Hasekura Tsunenaga were from, local officials decided to investigate the city’s past. Along with the usual things that one finds when they research the history of a city’s, they came across documents written by Date Masamune, the Great Lord of Sendai, where the mission of Hasekura was mentioned.
I guess the Japanese decided they wanted to know what Coria del Río was all about, as it was then that Japanese officials reached out to local officials in Coria del Río, and well, as they say, the rest is history!
Aside from the ‘Hasekura Japanese Hispanic Association of Coria del Rio”, which was founded in 1993 to organise activities and encourage the relationship between Coria del Río and the Japanese who come visit the village today, and the references to Japan – namely the statue erected in 1992 of XXX and the cherry blossom trees that surround it, there is not much tangible evidence of this special relationship. Just the emotional connection. So I didn’t think the soy sauce and wok noodles on the menu I was looking at had any special relevance to Japan.
The statue of Hasekura Tsunenaga, surrounded by cherry blossom trees, in the park at Coria del Río
Every town in Spain has their local fresh produce market!
Andaluz style tiles by the park which is decorated with touches of Japanese
The banks of the Guadalquivir River
These days, sitting alongside the Guadalquivir River at Coria del Rio is a very different experience to sitting alongside the same riverbank in the city of Seville.
The river that is lined with the busy capital on one side at the river front promenade of the Triana neighbourhood on the other, connected by a series of bridges ranging from ornamental to futuristic in design, is traded for swampy banks, village life, and and a car ferry that looks past its use-by date chugging back from the east to west.
It was sitting alongside this river bank at Coria del Río, marvelling at the fact that I could hardly believe I was alongside the same river and sipping on my glass of albariño, that, one my one, my dishes arrived for lunch.
The view from the river bank of the Guadalquivir River at Coria del Rio near Seville
Artichokes, ‘bacalao’, and only a hint of Japanese cuisine
Given that the menu was long and the choices were interesting, it was a hard decision to choose what to eat. I’m a fiend for artichokes at the moment, and I knew I was going to have to make a decision between the artichokes cooked with prawns and ham, or the artichokes stuffed with bacalao and covered in squid-ink tempura.
The fact that I could cook the former at home, and that the latter was a gentle nod to the Japanese connection, the decision was an easy one. At the same time we ordered the bolsita cruijente rellenas de crema de queso y langostinos, which was described as a pastry sack filled with cream cheese and prawns. This alone perhaps would have been a little bit ordinary, but it came in a small bowl which was filled at the bottom of orange marmalade, which surprisingly complimented the rest of the dish perfectly.
I’m going through a phase of not being overly keen on meat, so while the oven baked solomillo (pork loin) with Pedro Ximénez sauce and migas – fried breadcrumbs, a very typical dish from the traditionally poor region of Andalucía which can be served with almost anything and everything and is still eaten all across the region to this day, was good, it wasn’t really what I was keen on eating. But as we all know, I’m a lover of all things that swim/crawl/exist in the water, so I’d flipped the menu right over to the part named “Pescado”.
Solomillo with midges (fried breadcrumbs), artichokes in squid ink tempura and a ‘bolsita‘ of cream cheese and prawn at Sevruga in Coria del Rio near Seville
Amazing aubergine lasagna with apple sauce – really!
Albur de Estero (Bleak Fish from the Estuary)
“What exactly is albur de estero,” I had asked the waiter not long before, “es un pescado blanco, no?” He confirmed to me it was a white fish, one that is elusive on menus even as close as the nearby city of Seville.
Albur de estero (bleak fish from the estuary) is a local fish from river estuary in the area of Coria del Río, and was something I had never heard of before – in English nor Spanish – let alone seen on a menu. It would be rude to skip over the speciality of the house.
The fish reminded me of a trout (which makes sense given that they are both river fish) and was simply cooked with a typical sauce called ajar gallega, which as the name might suggest is not from Andalucía, but from the fish and seafood loving region of Galicia in the north-west of Spain.
Up in the north, this simple olive oil, paprika and garlic sauce is well-loved for seasoning, above all, cooked fish. So despite it being something not typical in Andalucía, it was an interesting and appropriate choice to accompany Coria del Río’s albur.
Upon finished our meal we asked our waiter if, by chance, his surname was Japón. “No,” he responded with his distinct andaluz drawl, “Soy muy del Río (I’m really “of the river”.)
The speciality of the house at Sevruga, a restaurant in Coria del Rio near Seville – Albur de Estero (bleak fish from the estuary)
How To Do It
Drive: Coria del Río is located 17 kilometres from Seville, the capital city of the southern region of Andalucía in Spain. The drive takes about 20-25 minutes from the city and it is easy to find free roadside parking around the village (we found roadside parking right out the front of where we wanted to stop!)
Bus: Alternatively, it is possible to get the local bus M-142 from Seville’s central Plaza de Armas bus station. The ticket price is around 3 euros each way, and the journey time is approximately 45 minutes. See the bus timetable here.
Eat: While I was there I ate at Sevruga, a restaurant located right on the riverfront with a great terrace for outdoor dining with river views (and outdoor heaters in winter). The food was a combination of local dishes done in an elegant way, and some fusion dishes too. It’s one of the better places I’ve eaten in Seville and also was great value for money (our bill came to 27 euros for 5 tapas – which were very generous in size! – and two glasses of wine).
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