Iwas born in Gouda in 1986, which will date me exactly as much as it should. I studied law at Leiden, practised commercial litigation in Amsterdam for eight years, and spent roughly every fourth weekend on a cheap Transavia flight to somewhere warmer than the Dutch winter.
In 2017 my partner Isabel and I booked a week in Puerto de la Cruz for what we both assumed would be the last time before we gave up on the whole idea and settled for an apartment in Rotterdam. Instead we spent that week walking the old cobbled streets of La Orotava, drinking coffee in the same place every morning, and asking each other — in a half-joking way that got more serious as the week went on — why exactly we weren't doing this.
We moved in May 2019. I expected the move to be the hard part. It wasn't. The hard part was buying the apartment.
Eleven months. Three near-misses. A commission of five percent the selling agency charged that I was not told about — I discovered it only when I requested the escritura from the notary. A Dutch buyer's lawyer in Tenerife who spoke no Spanish. A Spanish accountant who explained IGIC to me over four separate coffees in four separate cafés.
By the time it was over, I knew, roughly, how every link in the chain worked. And I knew that none of it was written down anywhere a Dutch buyer could read without paying for it. So I started writing it down. Friends asked me to help. Their friends did too. And at some point in the winter of 2022 I quit my job.
“I do not want to be an agency. I want to be the Dutchman you call, once, when you're buying a house on Tenerife — and then never need to call again.
— the operating principle, on the wall above the desk
The whole model in one page. No discovery calls, no bespoke quotes, no tiered packages.
I'll tell you honestly, inside the first ten minutes, whether I'm the right person for your situation. If I'm not, I know three agents on the island who might be — and I'll introduce you.
Book a twenty-minute call