David called me at 23:47 at night.
He didn't apologize for the late hour. His voice was quiet, almost broken: “I need your help. I thought I was buying a TAMA project (Israel's urban-renewal and seismic-strengthening program) in Athens. It turns out I bought a nightmare.”
It began as a perfect success story. David, a veteran real estate developer from Ramat Hasharon, a man who had already done eight TAMA 38 projects in Israel, found a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity” in Athens. A residential building from the 1970s, six apartments, in a premium location in the city center, 300 meters from Syntagma Square. The plan: renovate, redivide, sell luxury to international buyers.
The price? 1.2 million euros for the entire building. The forecast: a net profit of 800,000 euros within 18 months.
“Everyone sounds serious”
The local partner was convincing. A Greek developer with an impressive record - 15 projects in his portfolio, a designer office, an impressive website. He presented polished architectural plans, spectacular 3D renderings, and even a contractor who had already given a detailed price quote.
“The price is low because the owner needs the money fast,” the partner explained. “A family crisis. But hurry, there's an Italian investment fund looking at this.”
David did his “homework.” He hired a local lawyer - not me, he didn't know me yet. He chose the lawyer the Greek partner recommended. “A friend of mine,” said the partner, “will take good care of you.”
The lawyer checked the registration. “Everything is in order,” he said. “The building is registered, there are no attachments, the sellers are clean.”
David signed. Transferred 1.2 million euros. Began planning the renovation.
The moment the wall collapsed
Three weeks after signing, David sent his Israeli engineer to conduct a detailed survey before work began. This is the engineer who had accompanied him on all his projects in Israel, a man he trusts with his eyes closed.
The phone call came at four in the afternoon.
“David,” said the engineer, and his voice was urgent, “we have a problem. A big problem.”
It turns out the building was built in 1974 - without a building permit. Not an “outdated permit.” Not “missing documentation.” An entire building, six apartments, built illegally.
David didn't understand. “But the lawyer said everything was in order in the registration!”
The engineer sighed. “In the registration it's in order. But the permit is missing. It's a common problem in Greece, many buildings were built without permits between the 60s and the 90s.”
And then came the second blow: the splendid architectural plans the Greek partner presented? They don't match the reality on the ground. The third floor was built 15 sq m beyond what appears in the plans. The fourth-floor balconies? They were added in the 80s, apparently, without any permit.
And the cherry on top: one of the tenants, an 83-year-old woman, refused to vacate her apartment. It turned out she had protected-tenancy rights from the 70s, something the Greek lawyer “didn't think was relevant to mention.”
The night he realized he was burned
David arrived at my office in Tel Aviv three days after the discovery. Sunken eyes, pale face. He opened the file and set a pile of documents in front of me.
“Tell me straight,” he said, “how bad is it?”
I opened the documents. An hour of silence. I read the agreement, examined the plans, compared them with photos from the site.
“David,” I finally said, “you're not in a bad situation. You're in a terrible situation.”
Here is what I understood:
The structure fell into the category of ‘arbitrary construction,’ construction carried out without a permit between 1955 and 2011. To regularize it, one has to go through a complex process of submitting a file to the planning office, paying fines, and sometimes even making physical changes to the structure.
The estimated cost? Between 85,000 and 150,000 euros, depending on the severity of the deviations.
The time? At least 18-24 months, if everything goes smoothly. And in Greece, nothing goes smoothly.
And the biggest problem? Greek banks will not finance future buyers who want to buy apartments in the building, because of the permit issues. That means that even if David invested another million euros in a perfect renovation, he would not be able to sell to anyone except cash buyers. And cash buyers expect a 30% discount.
“Why, why, why didn't my lawyer check this?!” David nearly shouted.
“Because he did exactly what you asked him to,” I explained quietly. “He checked the registration. And the registration really is in order. But building permits in Greece are an entirely different story, they are not in the land registry, they are at the municipal planning office. You have to know to ask for it explicitly.”
David fell silent. Then he asked, his voice almost breaking: “And what about the Greek partner? He knew, right?”
“Probably yes,” I said. “That explains the low price. He sold you a problem disguised as an opportunity.”
David put his head in his hands. “If I had known this beforehand, I wouldn't have entered this deal at all. I wouldn't even have flown to Greece.”
The journey to pull David out of the swamp
The process took 22 months. Twenty-two months of hell. But in the end, we succeeded.
Here is how we did it:
Stage 1: Full mapping of the damage (months 1-2)
We hired a local team: a Greek civil engineer certified by the Technical Chamber of Greece (TEE), an architect, and a planning lawyer. Only certified engineers and architects are permitted to handle the regularization process.
They conducted a detailed survey of every apartment, every floor, every meter. They measured, photographed, documented. They prepared “as-built” plans, the real plans of the building, not the splendid ones the Greek partner showed.
The result: a 47-page report with all the deviations, all the illegal additions, and everything that needed to be corrected.
Stage 2: Negotiation with the protected tenant (months 2-5)
This was the most complex part. The elderly tenant was protected by law, and removing her by force? That was not an option - not morally, not legally, and not practically.
We turned to a Greek lawyer who specialized in tenancy law. After three months of delicate negotiation, we reached an arrangement: 45,000 euros + a replacement apartment that David rented for her for two years. In the end, she agreed to leave.
Stage 3: Submitting the regularization file to the planning office (months 6-18)
We submitted a full file to the planning office, including plans, a calculation of fines, and a declaration of regularization. We paid 127,000 euros in fines. Yes, one hundred twenty-seven thousand, to regularize all the deviations.
In parallel, we demolished two balconies that had been added illegally and could not be regularized. Another 18,000 euros down the drain.
Stage 4: Obtaining the certificate of legality and renovation permits (months 18-22)
After 18 months, eighteen months, we finally received the certificate of legality. The document that confirms that the building is legal and everything is in order.
Only then could we begin issuing renovation permits in order to carry out the original project.
The final cost of “fixing the past”: 190,000 euros.
The time lost: 22 months.
The real damage? Much more than that. Because while David was stuck in Greece, he missed three other deals. His capital was frozen. His partners began to doubt. And the pressure? It almost ruined his health.
How we completed the project (and why it was worth it)
After receiving all the permits, we began the renovation. This time, with a contractor we chose, with close local supervision, and with a realistic plan.
The project took another 14 months. Six apartments, renovated to a luxury level, modern design, quality finishes.
The sales? Slower than David had planned, but in the end everything was sold.
The bottom line: David earned 280,000 euros. Not the 800,000 he planned, but considering that he almost lost everything, this was a victory.
The new rules David wrote for himself (and that every developer must learn)
When I met David half a year after we finished the project, he was a different man. Not just tired, wiser, sharper, more cautious.
“Listen,” he told me, “I want you to write this down somewhere. If it helps even one developer avoid what I went through, it's worth everything.”
So here is what David learned the painful way:
1. “Everything is in order in the registration” is the most dangerous sentence in international real estate
In Greece, as in many countries, land registration does not include building permits. You need to check separately at the municipal planning office, and a standard local lawyer doesn't always know how to do this.
The solution: Demand that the local lawyer provide written confirmation from the municipal planning office that the building was built according to a permit and that all additions are legal. If he doesn't know how, that is a warning sign.
2. A local lawyer is not enough; you need someone experienced in international real estate
David's Greek lawyer wasn't bad. He simply didn't know what an Israeli developer needs to know. He checked what is usually checked in Greece, but not what a foreign developer must know.
The solution: A dual team. A local lawyer for execution + an international lawyer who knows the traps. It costs more up front, but saves millions in the end.
3. Splendid architectural plans are worth nothing without an “as-built” survey
The Greek partner's 3D renderings were stunning. But they didn't reflect reality.
The solution: Before signing, send an independent engineer (not one the partner recommends) to do a full survey. Measurements, photos, comparison with the plans. If something doesn't match, find out why.
4. Low price = warning sign, not an opportunity
David's price was 40% below the market. Why? Because the Greek partner knew there was a problem. He didn't steal, he simply passed the problem along.
The solution: If the price is significantly low, ask why. And when someone gives you vague answers (“family crisis,” “needs money fast”) - dig deeper.
5. Due diligence is not a to-do list - it is an investigation
David checked what “needs to be checked.” But he didn't check what truly needs to be checked:
- Protected tenants
- Rights of way
- Pending lawsuits
- Physical conformity with the plans
- Historical building permits
The solution: A checklist tailored to the specific country. Not a generic template. Every country is a different world.
The ending that is a beginning
Today, David is investing abroad again. He has a project in Portugal. But this time, this time he is doing it differently.
“Before I sign anything,” he told me at our last meeting, “I send you the entire file. And if you say ‘wait a moment’ - I stop. No matter how much the partner pushes.”
Because David learned something that most developers learn too late:
In international real estate, the biggest risk is not what you don't know. It's what you think you know, but don't.
The Greek partner looked professional. The local lawyer sounded serious. The registration was “in order.” But beneath the surface? There was a landmine that only a trained eye could have spotted.
The question every developer should ask himself
I am writing this story not to frighten, but to awaken.
Because I know there are plenty more “Davids” out there. Excellent developers, who made amazing deals in Israel, and think that is enough to succeed abroad.
But the truth is different:
Every country is an entirely different game. And the rules? They are written in a language most developers don't understand until it is too late.
So before you sign the next project - in Berlin, Athens, Lisbon or Warsaw - ask yourselves:
Do you truly know what you are buying? Or are you relying on the fact that “everyone sounds serious”?
Because as David discovered, once you sign, it is too late to discover that you should have asked one more question.
Stories are based on real situations, with identifying details changed. Not legal advice.
Translated from the Hebrew original. עברית