How Property on Crete helped us

“I think maybe you are already just a little bit in love with this house, yes?” George Mavromatis inquired as he flicked open his lighter, lit a cigarette and drew deeply. He smiled and paused as if for dramatic effect, blew the smoke in the air and swept his arm around like someone welcoming an honoured guest. “I have told the lady who owns it that I will find someone to love it.”

You had to admire George’s technique. It was one hell of sales pitch! But he was right and we didn’t need too much convincing. As soon as we saw the old house on the edge of a village a few miles outside Sitia, we knew this could be the one. True, it had been unoccupied for several years and was badly in need of some tender loving care. But the roof was sound and the dirty plaster facade concealed walls of solid stone almost two feet thick. Inside, the house smelt dank and musty. But George threw open the shutters and a shaft of brilliant sunlight burst through the dusty window frame revealing the most stunning view across olive groves and a deep ravine to distant hills. This was definitely the one.

My wife Carol and I had returned to Crete after spending many happy family holidays in the western end of the island beyond Chania where much of the tourism is concentrated. Over the years we had grown to love Crete and its people, whose philoxenia, or hospitality towards strangers, is legendary and with every year that went by, our dream of buying a house or a little plot of land on the island grew stronger. But every summer, too, we noticed more development, gobbling up the few remaining pieces of open land along the coast between Chania and the far west. It was time to look elsewhere.

So, that sunny morning found us driving in the opposite direction, east past Iraklion and towards Sitia, leaving the last big tourist town, Agios Nicolaos, far behind us and heading off up into the hills. Beyond the junction with the main north-south road to Ierapetra the traffic seemed to disappear. For nearly an hour we followed the road as it snaked round the base of the mountains through villages clinging to the hillsides. Eventually we reached the crest of the last hill, just before Hamezi, and saw our destination for the first time. Far below, shimmering like a mirage in the distant heat haze, lay Sitia, its buildings brilliant white in the sunshine, the sea beyond a clear deep blue. Something told us then that we had found the place we were looking for.

We quickly discovered that Sitia is one of the best kept secrets on Crete. Although the outer edges of the town are nothing special, once you get down to the front there’s a pretty, crescent-shaped harbour fringed by mature palm trees, packed with small fishing boats and visiting yachts. The lively waterfront boasts a good selection of kafenions, tavernas and hotels, and there’s a safe, clean sandy beach and a bustling old-town area with some fine buildings. Yes, there are plenty of tourists in summer, but it’s a cosmopolitan mix and the languages you hear alongside Greek are French, Italian, German – and only occasionally English.

We had found this website before leaving England and had already made an appointment to see George, Joy and Frances at the Property on Crete office. It was easy enough to find – ideally situated less than a minute’s walk from the main square in the busy heart of Sitia’s old town. After the introductions and as if by some prearranged signal, a young girl carrying a tray emerged from the kafenion across the road, dodged the scooters racing past, and brought us two enormous glasses of iced coffee. As we sipped our drinks Joy’s husband, Ray, appeared at the door with their gentle old greyhound, Merrick, who greeted the new arrivals with a few well-aimed sniffs and settled happily on his rug in the corner.
A constant stream of locals passing the door shouted greetings and within a few minutes we had been introduced to George’s mother and his wife, who called in to say hello. This was like no estate agency we’d ever experienced before and we felt instantly at home. After coffee and a freshen up, George and Joy showed us a folder containing their wide selection of properties for sale and invited us to pick out a handful that best fitted what we were seeking. Then, armed with the details, we all piled into George’s car and headed off.

As I am sure you have already noticed Property on Crete has a remarkably broad range of items on its books, from small plots of land to large olive groves covering half a hillside and from new-build concrete villas to old stone ruins in need of complete renovation. The village house we fell in love with that morning had only just come on the market and was only the third property we looked at. But, by mid afternoon - after enjoying a most agreeable lunch with George and Joy at a taverna high in the hills – Carol and I knew there was no need to search any further. “We’ll buy it,” we told George. And that was that.

As we drove back to Sitia, George and Joy explained the procedure from there on. We would have to put down a five percent deposit which, of course, we would lose if we decided to back out. But, in a novel twist to the way things are done in the UK, we were told that the owner would have to pay us ten percent of the price if she pulled out.

The following day, as I stood in the bank and handed over my credit card to draw the deposit, a slightly queasy feeling came over me. It had all happened so fast. Were we rushing it? Had we done the right thing? I didn’t have long to ponder these questions before the cashier handed me a thick wad of euros (it’s a cash society in Crete, people seem to walk around with thousands stuffed in their pockets) and I turned to go back to the office to hand George the money. As I stepped out of the cool, air-conditioned bank into the oven-like heat of Sitia square with the sun blazing down, my mood changed, as if someone had thrown a switch. The momentary feeling of unease vanished, to be replaced by a sense of exhilaration. There could be no turning back. We were committed.

But there was still much to be done before we had to return to England at the end of the week and this was when Property on Crete really showed what it could do for us. In the space of two or three days George and Joy took us to a lawyer and to a notary to draw up the contract of sale and complete the necessary paperwork, then to a local bank, where some of the staff spoke English, to open an account. They also discussed with us preliminary ideas for engaging builders and craftsmen to renovate the house and even managed to find one builder to go to the house with us next day to make an initial estimate. Meanwhile, Joy sat down to draw a remarkably professional looking sketch of how the house and rooms could be altered to suit our plans. George was confident that the sale would go through within a few weeks and, if we came back to Crete after completion to meet builders and agree on the work to be done, our house could be fully renovated and ready to move into by Christmas.

Those next few weeks seemed to disappear in a blur of activity. As soon as we got back to England we made an appointment with our bank to transfer the necessary funds to our new Cretan account. The process was remarkably simple. Every major bank in the world has its own ‘swift code’ which allows electronic transfers to take place within days. We’d already agreed to give our lawyer in Sitia temporary power of attorney to draw the money to complete the sale when the time came. Back at Property on Crete, George was arranging for a topography to be carried out on the house. It’s an essential part of the sale process which maps out the precise ground area and boundary of the property and eventually forms part of the ownership deeds deposited at the local land registry.

Everything went smoothly and barely four weeks later we received the call -- the sale had been completed and the house was ours. That month I went back to Crete to discuss the building work required in more detail. I was astonished at how quickly George, Joy and Frances had managed to get things moving. There was a fresh estimate from a second builder, which had come in less expensive than the first. George had also lined up a master carpenter to give us a price for new windows, doors and shutters. And then there was Theo, the kitchen fitter who insisted on driving me to a house nearby to show me an example of his handiwork. Although Theo spoke no English and I had only a few words of Greek, we somehow managed to hold an animated conversation amid much laughter and back-slapping as I admired his work and tried to explain the design of the kitchen we wanted.

Later, George took me to arrange connection of the electricity and water utilities, and to set up standing orders for payment. The man at the electricity company, who spoke excellent English, noticed our address and said his parents-in-law were our neighbours. If we ever needed any help, we were to let him know.

With the plans all agreed I returned to England once again with a heavy heart. I badly wanted to be there to see the renovation of our house get underway. But part of the deal with George was that he would project-manage the work and make sure that the builder’s promise “to complete the job in 70 days” was honoured. Over the following weeks we kept in regular touch with the Property on Crete office by phone and e-mail and Frances sent us photographs of work in progress.

Carol went back to Crete in October and couldn’t believe the transformation. Labourers were swarming over the house like ants, hacking off the old plaster to expose the stonework, knocking down an old outhouse and privy and using the stones for a new perimeter wall, clearing the old donkey stable to convert into a utility room and laying pipes and cables for services. The ‘clerk of works’ was apparently a former colonel in the Greek army who ran the job like a military operation.

Several weeks before Christmas, true to the builder’s promise, the work was finished and we went back out to Crete again for a quality check with George and to make the final stage payment to the builder and carpenter. It was then that we began to meet some of our neighbours, who had been watching the renovation take place throughout the autumn. “Orea spiti!” they would shout. “Beautiful house.” George told us they were genuinely pleased that the house had been restored to its former glory. Gifts were left on the doorstep – bags of oranges, vegetables, bottles of olive oil and raki. We felt truly welcomed.

And it wasn’t long before we met the previous owner. Maria cried tears of happiness when she saw the house fully restored, telling us that she had been one of six children born and raised there. George really had told her he would find a buyer to love her house -- and had kept his promise!

So, dear reader, if you’ve stayed with me this far, perhaps you are still undecided about taking the plunge and buying that dream home in Crete. I can’t tell you whether our experience is typical – others might be less fortunate than we were – but I can offer a few words of advice if you remain to be persuaded. Above all, be absolutely certain that you really want to do it. We can all be seduced by dreams of permanent sun, sea and raki based on two weeks in the summer, but the Cretan winter, though short, can be cold and wet.
Buying a house there is a serious commitment, whether it’s for holidays or retirement, so you need to do some hard-nosed calculations before you jump.

Secondly and self-evidently, make sure you have the money available or can get it quickly, whether by selling or re-mortgaging your house in the UK or from another source. As our story testifies, the sale of property can happen so quickly in Crete that you need to be ready with the cash. And finally, bear in mind that, however much you go out there determined to stick to a pre-agreed budget, chances are you will end up, as we did, spending rather more than you intended!

As you’ve probably been trawling the web for Cretan properties you’ll have discovered already that a vast number of real estate agencies on the internet are offering to find you that dream home. It’s up to you to decide who to trust – and there are some amateurs out there to beware of -- but I can only say we struck lucky. George, Joy, Frances and Ray helped us to live our dream and they’ve now become good friends -- and how many estate agents can you say that about?