IT ONLY TOOK EIGHT YEARS, so we count ourselves as the lucky ones. Many are still waiting – some after 30 years or more. Title Deed acquisition in Cyprus is certainly not for the faint-hearted.
Back in 2003, during the frenzied property boom on the island, you could turn in for the night and awake to face not only a new day, but also equally new batches of villa walls in the valley below; it was like a giant game of village Jenga.
When plumping for a new build, everything begins and ends with the developer. The fervent hope is that he’s the sole owner of the land he plans to build on, that he has sought planning permission to do so, and that the land is not mortgaged – he actually owns the plot he’s offering to you.
Apart from our villa, the developer we chose (because he had the land with the view we craved) had designs for eight others on the large plot. Individual Title Deeds are not issued until all the building is completed.
There is an awful lot of toing and froing between the developer, the planning department and the Land Registry, giving ample opportunity for delays and oversights.
Somehow, in our case, the owner of the local taverna was apparently entitled to a say in the matter, too. Last year, a top government official pitched in and, in an effort to get things moving, was recorded as having “started shouting at the mayor”.
After each visit to the lawyer, we would emerge into the hot sun carrying a batch of paperwork all in Greek and a tight knot of worry. We were assured, “Everything is good. This is Cyprus. No problem. You are here to relax! Siga-siga …”
We paused on our way out, to grill the secretary: “How long do you think? When will we get them?”
Her reply: “Maybe next month, maybe next week, or maybe tomorrow.”
It became the norm when bumping into old friends and/or meeting new people: “Hello! How are you? How’s the dodgy knee? Have you got your Title Deeds?”
Life went on – a volcano in Iceland erupted causing flight chaos; the Human Genome Project was completed; Facebook and Twitter were launched; President Barack Obama was sworn in; technology raced on – the iPhone, Kindle, Google Street View… Cyprus joined the EU. But we waited for our Title Deeds.
Several times a week our neighbour could be heard on the phone haranguing some poor chap, who would later reveal that he hadn’t the foggiest idea why we Brits were so hung up about this stuff. This, after all, was Cyprus.
Other neighbours packed a coolbox and staked out the offices of the Land Registry, refusing to budge until they were seen. Still nothing happened. To be fair, having had plenty of experience of the notoriously loose Mediterranean sense of time, we had to admit that, ultimately, most things do get done. Eventually.
Once, we ordered a replacement mirror for the guest bathroom; it was expected to take a week to arrive. Six months later, when I was out and my children were watching television in the lounge, three delivery men emerged via the patio and marched upstairs with a mirror tucked under their arms. They installed it perfectly, cleared up every scrap of mess and promptly left. If the children hadn’t mentioned it to me, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the new mirror for days. It got done.
Then, a phone call. Would we care to go along and pick up our Title Deeds? Racing home with the precious envelope (stop for champagne!) we pored over the documents spread out on the table. The drawing was very neat: a parcel of land we recognised as our own, but no building. No house evident on the Deeds. Apparently, we’d been living in a field for eight years.
A phone call established that these were our temporary Deeds (stage 1) and that the full version (stage 2) was to come. Soon. By this time, we had changed. We were in Cyprus. We liked – no, loved – our life here. We decided to call off the active and soul-destroying pursuit of the Deeds. We backed off.
One day, three chaps turned up at our house equipped with a GPS device on a long pole and with a mission to determine the position of our house on its plot. This was looking good. Halfway round the house, they downed tools. They’d run out of batteries. They assured us that they’d be back and beat a rapid retreat before we could imprison them in the boiler room. They’d heard horror stories about us enraged Brits. True to their word, they returned to finish the job. Three months later.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Our friend was apoplectic on the phone: “Have you heard what they’ve done? Have you heard?” All bank accounts were frozen in Cyprus, investors were to stump up for the island’s woes; the EU big boys were intent on making an example out of Cyprus. The Title Deeds issue plunged in priority.
In sharp contrast to the frenzied media portrayal of demonstrations, rampaging crowds and desperate queues building up before empty cash machines, the locals simply shrugged and headed to the beaches clutching armfuls of kites, to take part in the annual Green Monday kite-flying tradition. The expat community rallied, too. We drove away from the houses we did not own, past the banks we could not access, and hit the beaches; we may not be able to fly off the island (flights were heaving), but we could fly a kite.
A few weeks ago, we were eating lunch by the harbour when my husband’s mobile phone trilled. He answered, lowered the handset and picked up a stray chip. “We can go and pick up our full Title Deeds.” We shrugged and ordered another Keo beer. No rush.
Yes – if only the banks were as quaintly slow off the mark when it came to shovelling dodgy foreign currency loans out of the banks at warp speed. Or then pursuing debtors by (illegally) printing their names and passport numbers in the island’s newspapers.
Whilst I’m sure Karen’s little story is heart-warming for some – I agree it makes a mockery of the tens of thousands still fighting deception and conspiracy (not to mention being tinged with a touch of really stomach-turning smugness).
This isn’t 1955 and Gerald Durrell – it’s 2013 and grand larceny!
I am glad that the author of this little story got his deeds but it does trivialise a subject which causes broken hearts in Cyprus every day. We, like many others, now go out of our way to advise potential purchasers to rent and, if they must buy, not to consider anything which does not have deeds.
We have spent hours and hours in Cyprus court rooms watching the real life misery and heartbreak caused by the rotten, dishonest and corrupt property industry in Cyprus.
This piece is nothing more than an indulgent and misconceived attempt to paint a picture of quaintness in ‘foreign parts’ when the reality couldn’t be more damning. Institutionalized corruption and thievery on a grand scale is the Cypriot order of the day.
The author has not only insulted the intelligence of the many tens of thousands of people who’ve suffered as a result but he’s also done them a great disservice.
I agree Kufrahdog.
All very nice but what is the story/message?
Sorry but in my opinion a story about nothing and could have been completed in one sentence-
We bought a house in Cyprus and eventually got our title deeds 8 years later.
An interesting and entertaining, almost whimsical piece in parts that must make 1,000s of others in Karen’s situation CRINGE. Long may she and hers be happy in their Titled Deeded property. And Yes, serious as it was, the international media’s coverage of events in March was severely ‘pumped up’, amazingly Cypriots seemed largely to take it all in their strides – and the little money we ourselves had decided to keep with Cyprus banks was easily withdrawn over the ‘closure’ period in €300 instalments, ‘no problem’..
But, hey, what about the 1,000s, probably 10s of 1,000s who have fallen foul of the awfully lax Cyprus property, development, legal and banking and regulatory systems? Most of their properties, it seems bought in naive ‘good faith’ through linked solicitors, agents, vendors – and still await their essential Title Deed. Will the Cyprus government’s commitment to get all outstanding TDs issued over the next 12/18 months prove possible? Unlikely, given the precarious position now of Cyprus banks, similarly many of their once-valued land and property development customers, the unusual and convoluted relationships that exist between them – and a Troika instructed to ‘play it tough’ with little Ol’ Cyprus because it has ‘been getting away with’ sloppy procedures, processes and controls for far too long!
Nice to hear a success story, but a trivial little journalistic piece (from the Telegraph?) as no substantial mention was made of the real mess underlying the title deeds scandal. In this case the editor and author lost an opportunity to inform readers of the corruption and unethical business practices to which foreign buyers of Cypriot property in particular are exposed and from which their readers could have benefited.
All comes to those who wait but why can’t similar lengths of wait be applied to and accepted as the norm with regards to the payment of IPT?
Only in Cyprus, congratulations on obtaining you title deeds, we have only been waiting 7 years for ours. perhaps everything does come to him or her that waits!!
We have had the man with the GPS assessing a plan approved in 2005 however this plan was not the build plan as it had been revised and a new plan approved in 2010, so by 2020 that one should be assessed, then who knows!
A great story and one so familiar!
I await the next instalments when you fell off your chair after being told about the amount of IPT the Developers was claiming and the inflated DLO Title Deed transfer tax valuation for your palace!
(I hope you didn’t fall off your chair and everything was peachy!)
Another case of being beaten into submission. Luckily it all turned out right in the end. Let us all hope that full title deeds are issued to everyone who has paid in full, regardless of any outstanding developer debts or shortcomings.