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Pillazo Family Building Their House

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Why the Hell Would You Buy a Lot in the Philippines – PART 2

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In Part 1, I discussed some of the reasons that guys cannot and should not buy lots in the Philippines. Since Janet and I have purchased not one, but two lots here, I thought I would discuss why and how it all came about.

When Janet and I married in the U.S. we had many discussions about how she wanted to help her family. Whether married or in a serious relationship with a Pinay, you will discover that she is driven, like salmon going upstream to spawn, to help her family. Guys who think otherwise are  delusional. Nonetheless, how to help and how much is very much subject to negotiation, debate and sometimes even argument; but whether or not you are going to help should be accepted as a done deal.

After many such discussions (but hopefully not too many arguments)  it turned out that Janet’s greatest desire was to help her family by buying a lot and ultimately building a house for them. As the practical and wise (aka old) Westerner I stuck to the nuts and bolts; how much could a lot be purchased for in Southern Cebu. I encouraged Janet to save monthly from her paycheck and that I would help her do so. To her surprised (though not mine) she hit her goal every month for 2 1/2 years and saved the targeted amount of money. As I’ve said before, I am very proud of her!

In the meantime every time we came back to the Philippines, we looked for property. This is a very different process while living in the U.S. Yes, there are real estate agents, particularly in the larger cities, but in the Provinces, it’s much more like someone knows someone who’s knows someone who is a cousin to someone who might want to sell a lot, though it’s not listed anywhere.

The first lot we saw was owned by neighbors of Janet’s parents. I knew enough about the Philippines to know that clear title is very important. Often 5 or 10 people jointly own the property so getting clear title can be difficult if not impossible. The sellers said they were the owners and could come up with the title. “Great!” we said. The price was right and the lot was more than adequate. We left the Philippines thinking we might have found the lot. But the next week, the owners came to Janet’s parents and asked them for 5000 pesos – money they needed to come up with the title. That ended our interest in that lot and sellers.

The next year we saw an even better lot. It was much too large for our purposes but the owner agreed to cut off a piece of the lot and have the proper title created. Again, we were excited. The lot had a view of the ocean; hell, I would have liked it for myself. Again, we returned to the U.S. thinking we had found the one.

Communications with the “owner” were difficult and finally he told us that he actually wasn’t the owner; his brother was. His brother, we were told, lived in the U.S. “Great,” I said. “Then give me his phone number and I will call him.”

“No, you can’t do that,” said the brother. “But not to worry. The owner’s wife is here in the Philippines and she has Power of Attorney.”

“So let me get this straight, ” I said. “You’re not the owner but I have to negotiate with you and the documents will be signed by the real owner’s wife, even though he lives in the U.S.?”

“Right.”

“No thanks,” we said, and that was that. Of course we were eventually to realize that you almost never deal with the real owner (assuming there’s only one) initially.  In the future when meeting an “owner” my first question was always “are you the true owner?” and if the answer was ‘yes’ came back with, “are you the only owner?” Rarely did I get a ‘yes’ answer to both questions.

Tip 1: Make sure in buying property you are dealing with the owner or the owner’s representative. However, understand that if you are not it doesn’t necessarily mean the situation is fatally flawed, though it often is.

After our two failures buying property in Cebu, Janet and I determined that we would wait until we actually lived in the Philippines before trying again. That proved to be a wise decision.

Tip 2: Think long and hard before buying property in the Philippines while you are located in your home country.

Shortly after Janet and I moved to Dumaguete, Janet’s mother told her of property available. The lot was large but the “owner” was willing to parcel out a segment. Janet and her parents knew the “owner” and we went to Southern Cebu to look at the lot. The price was right, the lot was adequate, and the “owner” allowed Janet to select the 500 sq. meters she wanted and we left with a verbal agreement. Things were actually progressing.

It is a buying viagra in canada medical condition when a man is unable to get erection. The pill will not http://amerikabulteni.com/2012/01/16/wikipedia-go-dark-on-wednesday-to-protest-sopa-progress-in-congress/ discount viagra work and get you erections only by grabbing the pill. It implies that she is at least one type of therapy that does go to the root causes of impotence? order viagra does not cure erectile dysfunction. cialis does not solve the root causes of male impotence, although if the cause is primarily psychological, it may help to get strong erection naturally as it reduces the problem of poor alertness and poor brain functions. Stress leads to various amerikabulteni.com levitra price in india problems in the life of a man. Janet was determined to do things right and completely legal. This is by no means always done in the Philippines. As I suggested earlier, the owner doesn’t always have the legal title and the documentation necessary to get the legal title is extensive. Janet had done her research and we had consulted with an attorney. Janet sent the “owner” a list of the documents we required to transfer ownership to Janet. The owner said “no problem.”

But it was a problem. We made it clear that as soon as Janet had all the documentation, we would have an attorney draw up a deed of sale and pay cash for the lot. Yet weeks went by before the “owner” provided any of the half dozen or so requirement documents. The first thing the “owner” provided was a copy of the title; a copy that showed that he was not the actual owner – his daughter was. Dramatic texts went back and forth explaining why his daughter was the actual owner on record; in fact the original owner had been the man’s mother who passed it along to her granddaughter before she died.

Janet and I considered whether to run from the deal but the explanation made a weird sort of Philippines-style sense and besides, Janet had already spent a little bit of money, since the man we now realized was the owner’s father had insisted that Janet pay for the official survey of the property.

It took nearly 6 months for the man to come up with all the documentation necessary to draw up a deed of sale. Janet was furious at his procrastination and he was furious with Janet, always saying that “no one else is asking for all these documents.”

Just a couple weeks before we were ready for the signing Janet got a weird message from the “actual owner” (the daughter). They wanted more money, to compensate them for the extra expenses they had to come up with the documents. Janet angrily replied that we had a deal and the deed of sale and all documentation had already been written at the sale price. Janet asked if this meant the deal was off if we didn’t pay more. “Yes,” she was told.

Even more angry Janet replied that, “We’ve already paid thousands of pesos for the survey and a lawyer!” Surprisingly the “real owner” replied that they would refund that survey expense and if Janet’s mother went to her father’s (the previously considered owner) store he would give it to her.

The next day, Janet’s  mom went to the store to get the refund. The father said, “Don’t worry. We’re going through with the deal.”

A couple weeks later we signed the documents in front of an attorney. The daughter looked pissed, the father looked pissed, Janet looked pissed, and I sure as hell was pissed. Directly after the signing I announced to Janet, “I’m getting a drink.”

—————————————-

When you buy property in the Philippines there are a few fees and taxes involved in the transfer of title. There is a Capital Gains Tax of 6% and a Documentary Stamp Tax of 1.5%. Now while who pays this is negotiable between seller and buyer in this case because of the cheap price Janet had agreed to pay the taxes.

The taxes are paid at the local Bureau of Internal Revenue (BIR) and the rule is that you must pay the greater of: the sale price on the Deed of Sale; or the assessed value of the property. Unfortunately when Janet went to the BIR she found out that the assessed value of the lot was higher than the actual sale price. Ca-Ching!

Tip 3:  Make sure you know what the tax will cost and who will pay it, to avoid surprises.

But Janet paid and we did now own a lot in the Philippines.

In Part 3, I’ll describe how we bought a lot for Janet and I to live in. Yes, this is becoming an epic tale.

 

 

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Why the Hell Would You Buy Property in the Philippines – Part 1

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Janet has purchased not one, but two lots in the year since we moved to the Philippines. You notice I don’t say that we’ve purchased two lots, since as most people know a foreigner cannot own real estate in the Philippines.

Now, whether you are living as an expat in the Philippines or are living in your home country with a Filipina wife and considering purchasing property in the Philippines, let’s face it – you can do whatever the hell you want – you don’t need my permission. But a lot of people have strong views on this, so let’s dig into them.

A lot of guys are very passionate about only renting in the Philippines. After all, outside of the two main metro areas in the country, apartment and home rentals are generally cheap. Our rental home in Valencia is probably 1/4 – 1/3 of the price a similar house would rent for in our previous home in Portland. On the flip side you could probably purchase a home here for the same percentage compared to a comparable Portland house.

There are a few reasons you probably should not buy property in the Philippines:

  1. You’re on death’s door. Let’s face it – a 70-year old in poor health moves here – he’s got no reason to buy anything more expensive than a case of San Miguel Pilsen.
  2. You’re not committed to the Philippines or the city or town you live in. This requires more self-awareness than most of us expats have. Have you moved to the Philippines for good or just until your neighbor sings karaoke too loud or your Viagra supply runs out? Since high end property is difficult to sell here, such  a guy should again stick to investing in San Miguel.
  3. Are you committed to your girl and she to you? Since only Philippines citizens can own property, in all likelihood your girl will own the lot. Sure sure, you can technically own the house on top of the lot, lease the lot for 99 years from your girl, set up a corporation, and a million other schemes expats claim are foolproof. To quote Oscar Schindler in Schindler’s List, when the Jewish investors who lent him money wanted a contract, “Enforced by what court?” Once again if you’re not 100% committed to your girl and she to you – stick to investing in San Miguel.
  4. You don’t have a pot to piss in. A mortgage is not easy to get here for a jobless expat and even if you could get one, mortgage rates are high. Therefore most expats who buy or build houses here use this weird, old fashioned thing called cash. If you don’t have any – rent’s the way to go.

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  5. You think Camella houses look great and are a fine value proposition. In this case you’ve already invested in too much San Miguel.

So why did Janet, from a poor family, dream of owning property; a dream that long predated her marriage to me. Her parents rented the lot she grew up on. Because it was a rented lot with the associated fear that someday they’d get kicked off, they built a simple native home; no permanent, concrete structure on a rented lot.

So her dream, like that of many Filipinos was about the family; that they’d live in a real house on a real piece of property that she’d own. While in the U.S. she saved and saved (I’m very proud of her) to accomplish her dream.

Why did I want to buy or build a home for Janet and I? Because I am old fashioned enough (or just plain old enough) to believe that that’s the best way to live. Also because I delusionally hope to have enough years left to  live in a bit of a dream house. And also still because I want to leave Janet a nice home after I am gone; a place she can do whatever she wishes. And besides, I built up enough equity from the last house I had in the U.S. to pull it all off.

So those are our reasons. There are no right or wrong reasons. Well, actually there are right and wrong reasons; it’s my blog so by definition my reasons are right 🙂

More about the drama surrounding how we bought those two properties and lived to tell the tale in Part 2 of this saga.

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Has the U.S. Changed or Have I?

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Janet and I just returned from a two week whirlwind trip back to the U.S.  and we’re glad to be back home. Yes, I said home because Dumaguete is now home for us, not Portland.  Now, before I get into my standard wiseassed set of remarks about how I found life in the U.S., I should say that we loved seeing our family and friends and therefore don’t want the following to be considered criticism of our loved ones. That said, some of you are nuts 🙂

Here’s what struck me:

Friendliness: Our last flight on our long trip was a short prop plane hop from Seattle to Portland. As we were preparing to land they announced that there were two passengers with very tight connections and would everyone wait in their seats while the two passengers de-planed first. They repeated the request a few minutes later. Well you can guess the result. The moment the plane stopped at the gate half the people were up and in the aisle. Janet and I looked around, I shrugged and said, “Welcome back to the U.S.”

Attractiveness: I clearly have been ruined by the Philippines but most Americans struck me as – well, you know – butt ugly. And yes, I will acknowledge that you can throw me into that category also. Janet and I were in a mall and I sat down to wait for her; maybe 40 minutes. Bored to death I decided to count how many attractive people passed by me. Now, I’m not talking about 10s, or models or porn stars; just ordinarily attractive women or men. In 40 minutes the total was – zero. Ok, there were a couple of cute kids, but that’s it. Plenty of plump girls in undersized halter tops. Plenty of hideous tats and piercings. Plenty of guys holding up their shorts. But not one even vaguely attractive human being. If I sit down in Robinsons in Duma and watch for 40 minutes, small amounts of drool will start pouring down till Janet will feel the need to clean me up; that is after giving me a whack on the head.

Speaking of the malls,  when did they get this boring? On the flip side, the Walmart in Gresham, Oregon wasn’t as bad an experience as I recalled at other Walmarts and I actually (and I am not making this up) bought something there; a nice Kershaw knife. Civilization is coming to an end when Walmart beats the malls.

Weather: Portland weather is not usually the city’s biggest selling point, but my God it was June and several days didn’t break the 50s and most of the days were in the 60s. We did have a couple of nice 80s days, but they were aberrations. By the end I couldn’t wait to get back to Dumaguete heat and humidity. Thank God I can sweat again!

Eating: I was prepared or so I thought. I knew that the restaurant portions are larger than in Duma where let’s face it, restaurants have to feed small people, not gigantic Americans. But after a week we were ready to explode. Now, even in Dumaguete, Janet and I often share an entree; there’s a reason senior portions are smaller; we just can’t eat like we used to. But when we asked to share an entree in Portland we found that two full plates were delivered to us. The food was good of course but I simply could not keep up.

And at our friends’ home (they were kind enough to put us up and put up with me) the excess continued. Gallon ketchup bottles. A jug of mouthwash you could swim in. Now, that I live in a culture in which portions are usually enough for today, it was odd being back in a culture of excess. In the Philippines you can buy a Coke Sakto; Sakto loosely translates to “enough” or “good enough.” So a Coke Sakto is 4 ounces; enough to wet your whistle. In the U.S. 4 ounces is just enough to cause fighting in the streets.

Annual sales of all 3 ED drugs are a revelation for patients who are living with erectile Dysfunction Impotence condition causes strain on cialis discount canada a couple. This will make the users the possibilities of better pennies enlargement, production and ejaculation. cialis tadalafil generic The only mechanism cialis order required by the person is to stimulate the body. So buy levitra online if you’re experiencing erectile dysfunction, don’t be depressed as there are numerous ways to treat them is using natural ayurvedic supplements in the form sex tablets and oils. They’re All Mental: I was prepared but not really. Prepared because I knew how bad it had gotten before I left. That said I don’t watch what passes for the news in the U.S., avoid it all on FB and the other social media. I’d say I’m not interested in debate but the truth is I love debate. But none of what passes for political discourse in the United States could be called debate.

I tried everything to avoid. My go to strategy is usually to nod my head and ignore the conversation. Didn’t work. I’d try to change the subject. “Looks like cold and rain today,” I’d say. “Trump’s screwing with the weather,” would be the answer.

I even tried telling the truth. “You know I’m retired in the Philippines and don’t listen to the news much.” Or even more truth. “You know I’m retired in the Philippines so as long as my Social Security check clears, I don’t care.” Nothing worked.

In the end, I have my opinions, none of which have anything to do with politics but more with the stress and mental illness in my home country. While getting away from that is not the reason we moved to the Philippines it is a side benefit of the move.

All that said, I like my friends, love my loved ones, and will listen as long as they want to talk to me; of course as I listened I thought of getting back to my tropical paradise where right now I am happily de-stressing.

 

 

 

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Home vs. Away, Foreigners vs. Locals

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Not to get overly philosophical here but human history can be summarized into the universal divisions of us vs. them: country vs. country, religion vs. religion, race vs. race. Or in the case of the Philippines, “foreigners” vs. “locals.”

Now I know that some foreigners don’t like being called “foreigners” and I get it, I suppose. But it makes me wonder how Filipinos feel about just generically being lumped together as the “locals.” If any Filipinos/Filipinas want to weigh in on that question I’d be happy to hear from you. My guess is that you’re too polite to call the “foreigners” who refer to “locals” with the word you’d really like to use and it ain’t foreigner. Janet, OTOH, would have a choice name and it ain’t exactly “Joe Kano.”

I got to thinking about this, something I do far too much at present, particularly since I hope to retire soon and lay around on a beach drinking San Miguels, chasing Janet and certainly not spending much time thinking. But for now I’m allowed to think and here’s what occurred to me. Often the “foreigners” who don’t like being called foreigners, but like calling Filipinos the “locals” have another pair of words that get in the way of their happiness: “here” and “home.”

I was talking to my friend Robert the other day and we were pontificating on the differences between guys who are able to expat (or even travel) successfully and those who can’t. The former are the ones who adjust, instead of expecting the Philippines and Filipinos to adjust to them. And again it occurred to me that the key might just well be how we define “home.”

In a couple of months I will have lived in my “home” city for 40 years. It’s hard for me to believe. I came here less than a year after college on a complete lark. Bought an old Beetle, loaded up all the junk I owned in life (which filled about half of the VW) and off I went. When I arrived here I told my friends and anyone who might listen that I was only here temporarily and would be returning “home” in a year or so. “Home” was Philadelphia, where I grew up, although it could have just as easily been New York City, where I went to school and dreamed of success.

Every time things went badly I would again tell my friends and anyone else (who no longer wanted to listen) “I’m going home.” But of course I didn’t.

After a year or so I stopped saying, “I’m going home.” I still wasn’t 100% committed to my new city and would say, “If things don’t work out here, then I might go home.” That’s how it was for the next couple years. “Home” was still on the other side of the country, though it beckoned less and less.

After a few years I stopped referring to (or threatening to) go home. Where I lived was now “home.” It took a few more years but eventually those other places became “where I grew up” or the “back East.” Pretty soon, I stopped dreaming of even visiting those places; truth is I dreaded it and when I infrequently went there, I couldn’t wait to “come home.”
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Of course, it took still many more years before I stopped calling myself an “East Coaster” or a “Philadelphian” and defined myself as a “local” of my current city, despite the remaining hint of an East Coast accent. Forty years has allowed me to create whatever identity I decide upon.

I suspect this is how it is for many expats in the Philippines and elsewhere. They’ve lived abroad for a few years but still think of “home” as where they came from. Their people aren’t the “locals”; they’re people from the same country they left. Maybe they even spend most of their time hanging out with those people. I know in the first years after I moved West, I spent a lot of time hanging out with other East Coasters, who I thought had a more reasonable view of the world than the fruity West Coasters did.

The difference is that while I eventually made the adjustment and came to call my new home “home” and that old home “the shithole I came from,” some expats don’t seem to make that transition. Perhaps it’s the massive differences between cultures, or that most expats are older and less flexible. In many cases the guy came to the Philippines for his wife or girlfriend and never considered it to be “home” and doesn’t want to.

But there are exceptions. I read blog pieces from a guy who’s a retired Philippines Snow Bird, spending half his year in the US and half in the Philippines. When he is spending his half year in the US he misses his “home” in the Philippines. I never hear him say he’s missing the US; that’s the place he came from and the place where much of his family lives. But his “home” is 8000 miles away.

It took years, decades really for me to make the transition. So can I really get pissed at the expats who called their Filipino neighbors the “locals,” think of home as the country they came from and get annoyed when they are referred to as “foreigners?” Actually, I can still get pissed but that’s a “me” problem, I guess. Seems to me that once you’ve made that transition – that’s “home.” The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can start to enjoy the pleasures of your new home instead of bitching about its shortcomings.

But what about Janet? I know she hasn’t yet made the transition. “Home” for her isn’t the town where we live. Home is in the Philippines, specifically Alcoy. Hell, she doesn’t even think of any island other than Cebu as home. For Janet, Mindanao is as alien and frightening as living in the U.S. We spent a few days in Dumaguete on our trip in April and despite the fact that it is closer to Alcoy than Cebu City, because it is not in Cebu it felt too far and unhomelike to Janet.

I want Janet to be able to accept our current city as “home” without giving up Cebu as “home,” as well. Perhaps I am unreasonable, wanting her to maintain a Walenda-like tightrope balance that most expats don’t maintain. I except that I have high expectations; probably why I went all the way to the Philippines to find my lovely wife in the first place.