If I had a euro for every Brit who said “It’s probably fine” two weeks before calling a lawyer in a panic, I’d have a villa. Not one of the good ones either — a rural mess with no paperwork and a goat in the swimming pool.
You can get everything right and it still drags. You can get one thing wrong and lose €5k. Here’s what goes sideways most often. Most of it avoidable.
Trusting the estate agent.
No shame in it — they’re often friendly, fluent, helpful. But they’re not your friend. They work for the seller. Their job is to close.
No legal checks. No liability if it turns out the property’s got €3,000 in unpaid taxes. You need your own person.
That means a lawyer. One who works for you, not “both parties,” which is something people only say when they’re about to do someone over.
Not checking the debts.
Big one. Spain ties debts to the property, not the person. Doesn’t matter if it was the seller’s ex-wife’s cousin who didn’t pay the IBI in 2018 — it’s yours now.
Your lawyer should get the Nota Simple and dig for any outstanding rubbish. Some don’t. Ask.
The illegal bits.
That extra floor? That outdoor shower, the pizza oven, the upstairs “studio” they built in 2011? If it’s not in the title deed, legally it doesn’t exist.
And in Spain, that means fines, no insurance, no mortgage, or surprise demolition. Seen it happen.
Paying before the paper’s done.
Verbal agreements mean nothing. Even signed napkins mean nothing. If you pay without a proper arras contract, you’re just hoping.
Money should always follow paperwork. Not the other way around.
Budgeting too close.
If you’ve got €200k to spend, you’re not buying a €200k house. That gets you something like €175k max — after tax, fees, notary, lawyer, registration, translator, currency exchange.
People forget this every week. You’ll find them in the forums, asking if it’s “normal” for costs to go up after the offer.
Someone says ‘it’ll be fine’
It won’t. If they say you can sort paperwork later, that probably means you can’t. They just want the deal done.
Always, always check the habitation certificate, any urban planning restrictions, and what’s registered before you fall in love with the place.
Using your UK bank.
Technically works. But exchange rates will eat you alive. You’ll lose €1–3k just moving the money if you don’t use an FX broker or multicurrency account.
Also, most Spanish sellers want funds from a Spanish bank account on signing day. Set one up early.
Rustic dreams, legal nightmares.
Rural land looks gorgeous and costs half as much. That’s because you often can’t build on it. Or expand. Or get water. Or register it as a dwelling.
Always ask what zoning applies: urbano, urbanisable, or rústico. Don’t learn the hard way.
Promises not backed up.
“They said we could build a pool.”
“They told us we can Airbnb it.”
“They swore the boundaries were fine.”
Show me the paperwork. If there’s none, it didn’t happen. Spain is brutally literal when it comes to property law.
Timing it like you’re in the UK.
You think you’ll sign in a month. But maybe the seller forgot to deregister their mortgage. Maybe someone’s dead and the property hasn’t been inherited properly yet.
It’s common. It takes time. Don’t book removal vans until the notary date is locked. Even then, I wouldn’t book them.
Tiny details cause chaos.
Wrong passport number on a contract? Seller’s ID expired? Bank won’t release mortgage funds because of a spelling mistake in the nota simple?
It happens all the time. It slows everything down. You don’t get a prize for finishing fast in Spain. You get a property you’re allowed to own.
Summary, sort of
Get a lawyer who isn’t on holiday. Don’t trust agents with your documents. Double-check the plot lines on paper match the real ones on the ground. Use your gut, but don’t lead with it.
You’ll be fine if you act like it’s your problem to solve — because it is.
