Riding out the storm of negativity

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If you’ve been following along on my adventure, you will have gathered by now that it takes tremendous patience for a foreigner (or even a Greek) to try and transact business in Greece.

First test of endurance is the byzantine bureaucracy.  It takes oodles of paperwork, stamps, copies, notarized documents, more paperwork – oh wait, that office is closed today… come back Tuesday – except, oh dear – they’re on strike on Tuesdays.  You get the picture.

Now I am at the point where I am dealing with engineers, builders, project managers, lawyers and accountants. (Yes, it's only taken me three (3) years to get that far!)  I have lost patience and trust with some and developed new relationships with others... all part of the learning curve I guess.

 Then there’s the sort of endearing, but ultimately soul sucking tediousness of one’s friends always smugly second guessing me.  Oh, they say they support your dream – but, really, they’re sort of being subliminally snarky and spiteful.  YES, dammit I HAVE heard the news about the Euro and the Greek economy. NO, the stuff you see on the late night evening news is NOT the reality (by the way – the riots in Montreal are far worse than anything in Athens).   I get the feeling that they want to see me fall flat on my face.  That may well happen, but for now, I am still proceeding. Slowly.  Oh, so slowly.

I know you watch the news and may have read an article two in the newspapers.  But I LIVE there for months at a time.  I live, eat and breathe the Greek economy and politics  16 hours a day. I follow the news, the banks, the stock exchange, the parliamentary debate.  I’m on it.  I am not stupid.  Neither am I omniscient; I am aware of the risks.  I have done my homework.  But as smart and as prepared as I am, I can’t predict the world economic situation.

But you know what I can do?  I can gather my courage, dare to dream my dream and roll the cosmic dice.  I’m sorry you don’t believe in me or have the faith in my courage that I do.  If it works, I will have a lovely home in my favourite part of the world.  If it doesn’t work, I will employ the safety nets I have in place.  I assume you will be my friend in either event.

I’m Finally Legit!!

No, really!! I am finally a landowner in Greece! I've got a deed and everything - er, not that I can read it.

Didn’t take too long – I started in May 2010 pulling together the vast amounts of paperwork needed for the application to buy the land. And here it is December 2011 – 19 months – this would be the warp speed pace of bureaucracy in Greece.

So, the paperwork has finally cleared and I can now sink my life savings into a tiny scrap of land in a country with an economy that is circling the drain. What the hell am I thinking?

Well, I’m thinking of turquoise seas and azure skies; of lovely friends I’ve made in my little village overlooking the Cretan Sea; of the smells of Easter lamb roasting on the spit and incense burning in the church. I am thinking of my generous and friendly neighbours who think I’m a bit dotty but harmless (what a coincidence – my neighbours in Canada feel the same way).

I am thinking of sitting in a waterfront taverna staring out to sea and pondering life’s questions; of dandling the taverna owner’s child on my knee while I sip a glass of wine in the country the grape was grown in.

I am thinking of a future in a country with a fascinating past. And I am thinking that if I didn’t do this, I would regret it the rest of my life.

Now the next feat of endurance is to apply for a building permit. My engineer, Kostas, has the building plans, the elevations, seismic surveys (gulp), topographical maps, knows where to site the house on the land for the best views and is ready to submit something like a few dozen different documents to the authorities. They tell me that it takes about four months to get a building permit. But it might take two weeks. Here we go again.

In the meantime, I am dreamily leafing through plumbing supply catalogues and agonizing over what kind of knobs I want on my kitchen cupboards. I feel a bit silly looking at seed catalogues and trying to decide where I want the jasmine planted or the orange trees so they don’t block that all important view.

Maybe I need to focus more on where they will put my septic tank and how high I need to build my stone wall to keep the goats out of my flowers (no, I am not making that part up).

In February I will travel back to Crete to go look at my patch of dirt. I’ll dream about where the excavators will start to dig and I’ll imagine the sounds of workmen pouring concrete and cutting marble tiles.

I guess in a country with a past as long as Greece’s, time is relative.

Impulse shopping: Greek style

So, if you’ve been following along with this blog, you know that I have been trying to buy a little scrap of land in Greece. And you’ve patiently followed along on all the bureaucratic hoops I’ve had to jump through to foolishly spend my money.

Let’s review: a few years ago I found a tiny, but small patch of dirt on the island of Crete. Ever the impulse shopper, I took one look at the views from the land and said “SOLD!” Or the rough equivalent in my really atrocious Greek.

My sales agent, the ever helpful, endlessly patient Andreas, outlined the paperwork needed that I, as a non-EU citizen, would need to assemble to buy my patch of heaven. Mounds of it, piles of it, heaps actually. All duly stamped, notarized, authorized, certified, and stamped again. Paperwork is key – apparently actually handing over my dough is a minor detail - twiddling with more paperwork and stamps is ever so much more fun.

For the last two years I have been getting criminal record checks, arguing with the Greek Minister of Defense, whilst meekly begging for the opportunity to hand over my entire retirement savings to a country that is going bankrupt. I’ve been processed and cleared by the Greek departments of heritage, agriculture, environment, rural development and several other minor provincial offices. I still don’t have my land.

If you’ve been keeping up with the news, Greece is in a financial crisis of epic proportions. Not only is the country teetering on the abyss of bankruptcy, its profligate spending the last decade is now threatening to bring down the entire Eurozone.

I’ve been desperately trying to give Greece my money – buy some land, build a house, employ some locals to build and maintain it, and settle in. Apparently impulse shopping is not a danger in Greece as it’s now going on two years and I still have no land and no house.

I’m told that I am now mere days away from the right stamp being applied to the right piece of paper, duly notarized, authorized and certified and solemnly witnessed by everyone in the village from the mayor to the village barber. Mere days. The pace of land purchasing in Greece makes one dizzy.

I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, I’m going to go check on that bottle of champagne I put in the fridge to chill for the day I get my deed. I think it may have evaporated by now.

Crisis?? What Crisis??

Yes – I have heard about Greece’s financial problems.

No – it hasn’t affected my building plans in Crete.

Yes – my bank accounts there are protected and insured, just as they are here in Canada.

Yes - I did read that article in the [insert name of fear-mongering right-wing publication here] on how the entire country is galloping toward bankruptcy.


Yes – I did see those pictures of the young unemployed anarchists throwing petrol bombs at the Greek parliament building in Athens. I also saw the pictures of the Vancouver riots over a hockey game.

No – I don’t fear for my safety in Greece. The Greeks very kindly warn people well in advance where the demonstrations and strike parades will be. And Greece has a lower violent crime rate that Canada – particularly crimes against women. Their driving records, however, are the worst in Europe. I walk a lot.

No – I don’t know why the Greeks think that striking every other day and driving away their main economic life support (tourists) will make things better. I’m sure they’ve taken that into account.

No – I don’t know why Greeks don’t like to pay their taxes and yet expect all the services of a developed nation. Might have something to do with thousands of years of wars, invasions, and general mistrust of any bureaucracy.

Yes – I’ve thought about what happens if the country collapses economically. But then I’ve thought that about America too. Apparently the US has to cough up a few trillion to cover its overspending in the next 90 days.

No - I don't know that all Greeks are crooks but I'm curious to know how you formed that opinion.

Yes – I’m sure I still want to do this. And – please – keep emailing me those articles. I fancy myself a bit of a news hound and I like to stay on top of current events. It never would have occurred to me to check the [insert name of any news service here]’s website.

Yes – of course you can come and stay with me when my house in Crete is finished. Greece can use your tourist dollars and god knows I look forward to your unique take on their economy. And, besides, I can use the rent money.

It’s complicated.

Like most love affairs, my decades long relationship with Greece is complicated.

I get weak in the knees and teary eyed when my ship pulls into port in Naxos; I curse the slow plodding bureaucracy that keeps me from settling there permanently. I hotly defend Greece's wacky economic policies; I am jealous when they let illegal immigrants hang around to mooch off tourists but boot me out after 90 days. Coming around a mountain pass, my tummy does a slow lazy barrel roll at the beauty I see before me; seeing plastic water bottles and a million cigarette butts thrown on postcard-perfect beaches makes my stomach heave.


I have to remind myself that my own country probably has as many dichotomies and perhaps I just can’t see them anymore.


I have to remind myself about the centuries of wars, invasions and struggles Greece went through that perhaps has left them with customs my North American mind sees as counter productive.


It’s been a year now since I applied to the Greek government for permission to buy a tiny scrap of land in Crete. One (1) year. The bureaucrats in Athens assure my lawyer that the file is indeed being processed. Fees have been paid, papers have been notarized and stamped, my government has assured the Greek Minister of Defense that I am not a criminal and my banker has assured them that I have a few bucks so as not to burden their economy. Yet, my paperwork sits in some civil servant’s in-basket waiting…. who knows what to make me legal. One year.

Let me crass but frank: I have a bit of money – not wads, but just enough to build a reasonably nice house and maintain it respectably. I have my own gold-plated Canadian health plan. I have my own income and don’t want to take anyone’s job away in Greece. I want to settle into my adopted village in Crete and contribute by being a community volunteer (I’m partial to helping animals and the environment.) The building of my little house will employ lawyers, bankers, engineers, architects, contractors, plumbers, electricians, labourers and landscapers. I will need local people to maintain it for me when I am not there. I will pay taxes and permit fees (LOTS of permit fees). I have no immediate plans to knock over a bank or a souvlaki shop and, as near as I know, I carry no communicable diseases except the odd cold I pick up in Frankfurt airport. I behave reasonably well in public (sometimes I laugh too loud) and I have no plans to open a disco bordello on my land. I will likely keep at least one vineyard in brisk business. And yet….. one year has passed while the Minister of Defense anguishes over my application. Meanwhile the Greek economy makes daily headlines around the world about how their economy continues to tank.

Assuming the Minister of Defense holds his nose and eventually signs my permit to buy land, I then have to face the fact that the enormously stupid Schengen Treaty only allows me to visit for 90 days at a time. Oh yeah, and I have to remain OUT of the Schengen Zone for 180 days before being allowed back in. Was it something I said?

It’s complicated, this affair of the heart. Exhausting, exhilarating, frustrating, fulfilling, a test of wills and endurance and faith … complicated.






With deepest love and affection,

Nancy, gamely facing year two.