One of my jobs, once upon a time, in a small country called Malta, I made a living selling timeshare. I used to console myself that the one sure thing about people’s money was that it would be spent somewhere, somehow. Why not spend it with me?
My Dad, not so long ago, mentioned his relief that I was doing a real job now. He said he’d found it difficult explaining to folk that his son was a timeshare salesman. His job is quite the opposite. He’s a priest.
The thing about the timeshare industry is the bollocks. The big bollocks. It’s full of big swinging dicks, trying to out-do one another on the macho-scale. You live on the bread-line if you’re no good, and in Monaco if you’re hot. It’s not an industry that’s conducive to family life or keeping friends, nor is it one that allows you to talk about anything else when you’re winding down with colleagues after a hard day’s slog.
I only did it for a year. I made a few quid and had a blast. I got out in time to save my humanity and keep my ego in check. And now …
… now I’m the one spending money on property. For the first time I’m experiencing the cold sweats that go with tying oneself up in debt for the next twenty years. I’m battling with the plumber, arguing with the foreman and bouncing banks off one another, convincing myself that my business is worth too much to them for them to say no to me.
I think I may be getting paranoid, but I think I’m also being screwed left, right and centre. Because our apartment is brand spanking new, we’re having to buy baths and cookers, and get the gas people to come and install a meter. Without our asking, there’s been a middle-man crop up at every step. The plumber, who got us a “great deal” on bathroom appliances, gave us an initial price that we managed to knock down by more than 45%. What a crook. We got a bill from the building company for installing the gas, water and electricity meters. It came to the price of a Caribbean holiday. A quick call to the utility companies revealed that we’re being royally shafted.
We’re fighting our corner, of course, winning a few battles but losing the war. I’d understand (if I was a more religious sort of person) that it’s divine retribution for (perhaps, just slightly) mis-selling my great product when I was working in Malta. But surely not everybody who buys a house is paying for sins of a past life?
So we budgeted very carefully. We allowed 500 euros for the bathroom, and are reasonably happy with an amount only six times that amount. The place came finished! Do you know how much taps cost? Bills keep coming from nowhere. Just to get connected to the water mains is more than bathing in Evian for a year. And here’s me thinking we’re living in the First World.
On top of that a sneaky Belgian policeman jumped in front of the Tractor when I was driving where I shouldn’t have been. Consequently I’ve received a letter that may or may not be a summons. It asks me if I’m happy with the amount mentioned. It doesn’t mention an amount, so I’m tempted to say yes. It also mentions that the Tractor is black, but it’s definitely not black. More grape-coloured. I’m hoping to get off on a technicality. I’m not holding my breath.
Meanwhile, speaking of the First World, Gussly is back off on his travels to the Third World, arriving in China sometime about now. Please drop by and say hello from me.
I’ve been warned that this posting shouldn’t be called “Buying Property in Belgium”, but rather, “Buying property in Brussels”. Apparently the laws are slightly different if you’re outside of the Brussels’ administrative area. So, for those not buying in Brussels, don’t use this is a hard and fast guide. In fact, for those who are buying in Brussels, don’t use it as a hard and fast guide either …
I’ll put the disclaimer here: I might have researched this reasonably thoroughly, but things change and I might still be wrong. So please don’t hold me responsible.
So … Kim Bah Lee’s guide to a Brussels-based Belgian property purchase:
1. Decide you want to buy a house.
Or an apartment. Or a shed. It’s a great time to buy here. Interest rates are still very low. If you’re planning on staying more than two years it’ll work out cheaper than renting. If you sell it again.
2. Budget.
You’ll have an idea from talking to folk about what you can get. You’ll know how much you can afford. Talk to the banks for a breakdown of what they’ll lend you. Figure in your savings. The banks will talk to anybody. Just give them a ring. Sketch in a 30 minute appointment for information purposes. At this point there’s very little point going to see more than one or two banks. You won’t know how much you want to borrow until you’ve found the place you want, but they’ll give you a pointer as to monthly repayments. Bear in mind that if it’s been twelve months since your last consultation, interest rates will already have changed. Also, the interest rates will be lower if you don’t borrow 100%. Belgian banks will lend you up to 125% of the price of the property, depending on your status. The more you borrow, the more it costs.
Taxes - rough guide - allow 13% for a property that’s been lived in before. Otherwise it’s about 22% (with VAT). The notary will tell you exactly how much. But this is a good guideline. Not exact. Not perfect, but a good bet.
3. Find a property.
Look at loads. Identify three or four areas of town you could see yourself living in and tell three or four agents. If you’re good about timing, you should be able to view three to four places in your lunch break alone. Also look at private buys through Immoweb and Vlan. I preferred using agents for the sheer convenience.
4. Once you’ve found somewhere you like …
… make an offer. Negotation is normal, but you’re not in a Turkish carpet-shop. Don’t expect much more than 5-10% off the asking price. Submit your offer in writing. Mention that the offer is valid for “x” days and that if they want to accept the offer they have to do so in writing as well.
5. Congratulations.
Your offer has been accepted. This is a good time to contact the banks and get a notary. Choose a notary on a friend’s recommendation. If you haven’t got friends, or you haven’t got friends who’ve got notaries, use mine. He’s very good.
The banks can be played off each other. Make appointments with four or five, never accept their offer at the first meeting, and show them the offers you’ve had from elsewhere. Figure in the other costs like obligatory insurance. We used a mortgage broker at the penultimate step, who scanned the market for the best offer he could find. We then took this back to the bank we wanted to deal with, and they bettered it by a few percentage points. You don’t need to actually get the mortgage at this point if you have your own money for the deposit. If you don’t have the deposit saved, you need to the mortgage already.
6. First signatures.
Your notary will get in touch with the seller’s notary and draw up the first contract - the compromis de vente.
Get your notary to have a look at it. He doesn’t need to be there when you sign. You’ll have to pay between five and ten percent of the purchase price at this stage. The notary will tell you exactly how much and the bank will give you a cheque for this amount. Don’t lose it. Sign the paperwork and get a receipt for the deposit. You’re now bound to buy. You’ve got a month to find a mortgage provider if you haven’t done already.
7. Paying the rest.
Once you’ve signed the mortgage agreement, you’ve got three months to complete the paperwork for the house. Tell the notary to prepare the acte finale. You will sign it, along with the seller and his legal representative. The bank will either transfer the cash to your notary, or you can carry an even bigger cheque with you. Again, don’t lose it.
7. Get the keys.
8. Move in.
NB - if you’re buying an unfinished construction you might only pay 80% or less of the total price when you sign the acte finale, depending on the stage of completion. The sellers will send you bills for the rest in dribs and drabs. You should organise a rĂ©ception provisoire before taking possession of any new construction. Take an expert (ask the notary) to have a look at the place before they give you the keys. It’s a safeguard for you and a guarantee of workmanship. You’ve got a year to find fault with the building work …
It’s pretty straightforward. If you’re not sure, just ask the bank. Take each step at a time. Now start saving …