The News We’ve Been Awaiting: “Offer Aceptado”

By Lapel Stick

The Email That Changed Everything (And Also Wrecked My Focus for the Day)

So, I’m sitting at my desk in Frankfurt, you know, trying to get back into work mode after Madrid. Inbox overflowing, coffee half-cold, brain still lagging a bit. Usual post-trip chaos.

Then—ding.

Email from the real estate agent in Ibiza.

I don’t even open it right away. Just sit there for a second, staring at the subject line.

“Aceptado.”

Huh.

…Wait.

Oh.

OH.

Heart rate goes up. I click. Read it. Read it again. Then a third time, just to be sure I’m not hallucinating. And then it hits me—holy shit, we got the villa.

I immediately call Sarah. No hello, no lead-in. Just:

“Babe. We got it.”

Half a second of silence. Then—screaming. In a good way. Then I’m calling the kids. More yelling. Everyone’s freaking out. It’s chaos. In the best way.

And then, the crash.

You know that moment when excitement fades just enough for reality to kick in? Like, oh right, now we actually have to BUY this thing.

So, before I can spiral into a black hole of “wait, what if this goes horribly wrong?”—I grab my phone and call the lawyer.

Lawyer Time: “Don’t Mess This Up” Edition

This guy—let’s call him Miguel Ángel—was someone I met in Ibiza’s old town a while back. Came highly recommended, super professional, no fluff. My kind of person.

He picks up.

“Congratulations,” he says, very casually, like this isn’t a massive deal. “Let’s go over the next steps.”

Alright. Let’s do it.

Here’s how not to accidentally buy a disaster in Spain (aka: The Process):

  1. Contrato de arras – Basically, a “We’re serious, take this off the market” contract. Small deposit, villa officially reserved.
  2. Legal checks – This is where the fun begins. Miguel Ángel will now spend the next couple of weeks digging through paperwork to make sure I’m not accidentally buying a house that still belongs to some guy’s great-grandmother. Apparently, 9 out of 10 times, there’s an issue. Fabulous.
  3. Contrato de compraventa – Assuming no skeletons fall out of the closet, we put down a bigger deposit (10% of the price), and now it’s legally ours to buy.
  4. The notary signing – Final stage. Paperwork, signatures, ridiculous amounts of money transferred. And then, boom. We own a villa.

Easy, right?

Haha. No.

Oh Yeah, And There’s More Money Involved

Just when I think I’ve wrapped my head around the finances, Miguel Ángel casually drops the Oh, by the way… moment.

Here’s what I now have to pay, in addition to the actual villa:

  • Taxes: Somewhere between 8-11% of the price. (Love a little uncertainty with my large purchases!)
  • Notary & land registry fees: About 1-2%.
  • Lawyer’s fees: Roughly 1%, unless something weird comes up—which, let’s be honest, something will.

So. That’s fun.

At this point, I’m just throwing my hands up. Screw it. We’re in too deep now.

Now for the Good Stuff: Turning This Place into a Home

The boring part (legal stuff) is in motion. So now? The fun part.

Which means I am now spending way too many nights scrolling through furniture websites, bookmarking stupidly expensive outdoor loungers and dining tables I absolutely do not need but definitely will buy.

Also. We need a car.

Nothing fancy. Just something small enough to squeeze through Ibiza’s tiny streets without me sweating through my shirt every time I park. Something cheap, reliable, and not an SUV—because I’ve seen how people drive out there, and I like having side mirrors.

The Countdown Is ON

So yeah.

This is real now.

A few months ago, this was just a nice idea. A someday thing. Now, it’s happening. Papers are getting signed. Money is about to leave my bank account at an alarming rate. And in just a few months, we’ll be unlocking the door to our villa.

And I have zero clue what I’m doing.

But honestly?

I can’t freaking wait.

sitemap