He was not new to the field. Danny (a pseudonym), an Israeli businessman in his 40s, had already invested in apartments in Israel - but over the years, as the market began to feel crowded and he felt too smart for 2.3% net - he looked outward.
“Romania looked to me like a developing market, Greece winked with its mix of sea and numbers, and Ukraine - even before the war - looked like a bold opportunity,” he told me in a routine consultation call that quickly became a deep conversation about the unexpected gaps in international real estate investing: not in the value of the property, not in taxation - but in the tenants themselves.
Danny bought three apartments (or at least that's what he thought):
- In Bucharest - a 2-room apartment in a new project.
- In Athens - a renovated apartment in a neighborhood being renewed.
- And in Odesa - a classic 3-room apartment in a building designated for preservation.
All three were rented out relatively quickly, but surprises soon started to pop up. Not from the market, but from the tenants. The same people you see once or twice a year (if at all), who are supposed to transfer rent to you regularly - but in practice, demand of you much more than you thought. And all of it - because of cultural differences.
Romania - “But why don't you come visit?”
In Bucharest, Danny rented the apartment to a young couple - she a teacher, he a programmer. The agreement was standard: first year, a signed contract, payment through the bank. Every investor's dream.
After only two months, he received an email:
“We need you to come and check the damp problem yourself. It's important to us that you feel what it's like to be in the apartment you are renting out.”
Danny thought it was a joke. A flight for damp? What, am I an air-conditioning technician? In Israel, a tenant would send a photo, maybe call - but not expect the landlord to take a flight just to “feel” the damp. But the Romanians - he learned - see the landlord as an active partner. In the local culture, the physical presence of the property owner is highly valued, especially when it comes to personal connection.
After he didn't respond for a few days, he got an agitated phone call:
“It's very disappointing that you're not taking responsibility. A landlord should be present.”
This is where “the penny dropped.” In Romania, the landlord is perceived almost as a family member. Lack of communication, and especially lack of involvement, may be perceived as disrespect. He appointed a local management company to be his “face” in Bucharest - and relations calmed down.
Greece - “It's not just your apartment, it's ours too”
In Athens, a boutique apartment in a neighborhood being renewed was rented to a 28-year-old female student. Everything flowed - until one day, when Danny traveled to visit the place, he asked to see the apartment. The tenant refused.
“This is my house. I pay, I live here. You don't enter without my permission.”
In Israel, quite a few tenants accept the landlord's right to inspect the property from time to time. But in Greece, Danny learned, a tenant is a queen, and the apartment is a kingdom.
More than that - when he tried to replace the air conditioner during the summer months, to improve the property's value, the tenant insisted on not letting a technician in until September, because:
“August is a month of quiet. You don't make changes. You don't replace an air conditioner, you don't bother tenants.”
It turns out an apartment also has a vacation month. And the tenant? Unwilling to be disturbed in it. Not even with cold air.
Ukraine - “If it's not written, it doesn't exist”
His apartment in Odesa was rented to a freelance engineer. Everything was agreed verbally: payment in cash, a basic contract. After 5 months - the tenant decided to stop paying.
“What's the problem?” asked Danny, “we have an understanding.”
“If there's no clause obliging me to fix the shutter - why should I pay now? You didn't give me a receipt. There's no proof that I transferred the money last month.”
Here Danny took the most painful slap. He tried to talk, to explain, to persuade.
“In my country, if it's not written, it doesn't exist. Period.”
In Ukraine, especially in an environment of instability, written and detailed documents are a critical basis for every action. Even if there is a contract - it must include every small detail: responsibility, deadlines, payment methods, how faults are fixed.
Unlike Israeli culture, which can sometimes rely on a “word,” here - only documents speak.
Danny had to pay a local lawyer to evict the tenant. Today, every contract he signs in the country is drafted by a Russian-speaking lawyer with a notary's seal.
“I thought what works in Israel would work in Europe too. Today I understand - every market is a different world. But not only the market - the culture too.”
Renting out a property in a foreign country is not only knowing the tax. It is also the ability to read between the cultural lines:
- To understand why a Romanian expects you to come see the problem yourself.
- Why a Greek woman will see you as an intruder when you ask to see the property.
- And why a Ukrainian will demand a written clause for every light bulb you ask to replace.
Today, Danny manages every apartment with a local representative, a tailored contract, and clear expectations. But the real insight - he makes sure to tell new investors:
“Don't fall in love only with the numbers. Get to know the people too. Because in the end, the apartment may be yours - but the culture is theirs. If you don't understand the culture - you don't understand the deal.”
Learn to speak with the apartment. With the tenants. With the culture. Because sometimes, right there - between the Greek air conditioner, the Romanian damp and the Ukrainian shutter - hides the most important lesson in yield.
Stories are based on real situations, with identifying details changed. Not legal advice.
Translated from the Hebrew original. עברית