Roy had been building projects in Israel for ten years before he decided to go to Romania.
He wasn't the type to jump into water without checking the depth. Experience, composure, the confidence of someone who has done it many times and comes out fine. When he arrived in Bucharest and identified a plot that fit his vision, he acted the way he knew well: bought the land, began planning, and only then approached the bank to close the financing.
In hindsight, that was the wrong order. But more on that later.
The Romanian bank he negotiated with sounded entirely reasonable at first. 75% financing on construction costs, that is what was agreed in principle. Roy built the entire financial plan on that number. He calculated the profitability, the timelines, the break-even point. Everything worked on paper. He returned to Israel, updated his partners, started marketing to potential buyers. He was optimistic. There was reason to be optimistic.
And then, in the middle of the negotiations, the bank changed its position.
Not with shouting. Not with an official notice. One sentence in a meeting, in a businesslike and polite tone as if it were a small technical detail: only 50% of construction costs. And when Roy pointed to the land, which he had bought out of his own pocket, in cash, before he had even spoken with the bank, he received a quiet explanation: the land does not enter the calculation.
He told me he walked out of the meeting onto the street. Stood there for a few minutes. The air in Bucharest in autumn is cold and sometimes cuts into the lungs. He calculated in his head. He understood that the project he had planned no longer existed, and that he had already bought the land.
There was nowhere to go back to. There was only forward.
He started moving. Another bank - similar terms. A second bank - the same answer, differently worded. At that point he turned to a local broker, who promised that he knew the right people, that it was a matter of a few weeks.
Four months passed.
The broker took his money. The connections never matured into anything. The project stood still, land sitting there, partners waiting, potential buyers asking questions he had no good answers to. Every week that passed felt like a week you can't get back.
By then he was no longer optimistic. He was tired and angry, mostly at himself. “I did everything right,” he told me in a phone call one evening. “I bought good land, planned a good project, worked with professionals. So why am I stuck?”
I didn't answer him then. It wasn't the right moment.
In the end he found financing, but mezzanine financing. The expensive kind. The kind you take when you have no choice, and when you take it, you know the profitability you calculated at the start is no longer there. It's not a disaster. It's not a collapse. But it hurts, because you see exactly how much every month of waiting cost you, not only in money, but also in wear and tear.
The project went ahead. And then the war in Ukraine broke out.
Construction costs jumped all at once. Raw materials, labor, logistics - everything got more expensive. Roy sat in front of the spreadsheets and watched the profit he had calculated a year and a half earlier shrink more and more. Not disappear, but shrink. And the pace of sales was slower than planned. Some of the buyers who had expressed interest at first waited too long and dropped out. He had to look for new buyers, reset expectations, keep going.
A roller coaster. That's what he told me when we met in Bucharest, a small café near my office, when the project was already in full swing. He ordered an espresso and didn't touch it. “Ilan, there are days I'm sure it will work out and turn out great. And there are days I get up in the morning and ask myself why I left Israel. But I have no choice, I'm in, and I have to see it through. There are partners, there are commitments, there are buyers.”
That is the sentence that stayed with me from that meeting. Not “how much did it cost me” and not “what is the final profit.” I have no choice - I'm in.
He finished the project. He didn't collapse. He is a strong and experienced man and the project was carried out. But when we talked about it in hindsight, he asked me a question I think about often: “What should I have done differently?”
I answered him honestly: talk to the bank before you bought the land. Not an introductory conversation. Not “what are your principles.” Sit across from them with a detailed plan, get in writing what they are willing to finance and on what terms, and only then sign the purchase.
Local banks abroad don't deceive anyone. They are simply not bound by what is said in introductory conversations, exploratory conversations. What looks like agreement at the first meeting is an opening point, not a basis for a business plan and not approval to buy land.
A developer who buys land before he has a written financing approval is building on sand. Even if the land is excellent. Even if the project is brilliant. Even if he has done it for ten years in Israel and everything worked.
Abroad is not Israel. And the bank there doesn't remember the first conversation.
If you are developers planning a project abroad, before you sign for land, before you start planning, sit down with someone who knows these local banks up close. Not to hear that it's possible. To know exactly on what terms.
Stories are based on real situations, with identifying details changed. Not legal advice.
Translated from the Hebrew original. עברית