Chasing Quotes and Checking the Fine Print 

By Lapel Stick

Man, I knew buying a villa would be work, but this? This is next level. I feel like I spend half my life refreshing my phone, waiting for a callback that never comes. It started out fun, you know? Talking about how we’d set it up, picturing the terrace, planning the home cinema, deciding where the barbecue would go. But now? Now it’s just me chasing people who apparently don’t believe in answering phones.

Contractors in Ibiza – Do They Actually Exist?

I’ve tried everything. Calls, emails, WhatsApps. Nothing. Like, I get it, it’s Ibiza, the whole island runs on a “mañana” mentality, but how do people actually get anything done here? Finally, after posting a semi-desperate message in some expat forum, I got a few numbers. One guy actually picked up. I could’ve cried.

“You need to be patient,” he tells me. “It’s Ibiza. Things move slower here.”

Yeah, no kidding.

I half-joked about still waiting for a quote next summer. He laughed. Said he’d see what he could do.

That was ten days ago. I don’t think he’s seeing what he can do.

Solar Panels? Not As Easy As You’d Think

This was supposed to be the easy part. Solar panels make sense. Good for the environment, good for the villa, makes everything more self-sufficient. Done deal, right?

Wrong.

Turns out the grant funding I thought I could get? Completely gone.

Fine. No problem. I figured I’d just pay out of pocket. Called a well-rated company on the mainland.

“We don’t do Ibiza,” the guy says.

I push a little. “Not even for a good price?”

“Only if you pay for my holiday too,” he says, laughing.

I mean, respect. Can’t even be mad.

Found a couple of local firms, but good luck getting a straight answer.

“How much will it cost?”
“It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“It depends.”

Super helpful.

The Driveway – Apparently That’s Complicated Too

I thought getting a driveway sorted would be one of the simpler tasks. Hire someone, get it paved, move on.

Nope.

Because of Ibiza’s environmental regulations, I might need special permission just to fix it.

“So, wait,” I say to Sofia, already exhausted. “We need permission to improve our own driveway?”

She smirks. “Welcome to Ibiza.”

The Home Cinema Has Already Sparked a War

I thought the home cinema was one decision I wouldn’t have to fight for. Just a big screen, some surround sound, and done.

Except Leo and Eva have turned this into a battleground.

Leo wants a Batcave.

“I want a massive Batman logo on the wall,” he announces. “And a hidden entrance.”

Eva? Not impressed.

“No, it should be magical! Like a starlit sky, with fairy lights and cozy cushions everywhere!”

Sofia, the only rational person in this house, shuts them both down.

“You two can fight about decorations later,” she says. “First, we need walls. And maybe a working projector.”

Good point.

Meanwhile, I keep reminding everyone that we still don’t even have a finished villa yet, so maybe let’s worry about water and electricity before deciding whether this room is Gotham or Narnia.

Spanish Paperwork Might Actually Kill Me

I’m sitting with my lawyer, staring at yet another stack of documents, trying to figure out what fresh bureaucratic nightmare I’m signing up for.

“So… what exactly am I agreeing to here?”

He adjusts his glasses. “You’re confirming that you’re aware of any outstanding property taxes and municipal regulations.”

“So basically, I’m agreeing to pay whatever they tell me to pay?”

He smiles. “More or less.”

Cool.

Someone, Please Just Call Me Back

Between chasing quotes, getting ignored, and trying to make sure this place doesn’t turn into a never-ending project, I’m starting to fully understand what owning a villa in Ibiza actually means.

It’s not just beautiful views and lazy afternoons.

It’s also waiting, negotiating, and wondering if I should just become a contractor myself at this point.

Still worth it.

But if one person could actually call me back? That’d be great.

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