How we bought a plot of land in Uruguay

A quick introduction if you are new here: I am from Ukraine. After 2022, we lived in Switzerland for two years and then moved to Uruguay. We now live in Piriápolis. We eventually bought land here, but the process was not smooth.

This is how we searched with a limited budget, why our development does not allow container homes or low-quality construction, and why we spent more than two months holding a single document while waiting for registration. This is our family's experience, not a universal buying guide.

We thought it would be quick; it took four months

We started looking for land soon after moving. Since we were already in Piriápolis, searching in town seemed logical. Honestly, we thought it would be quick. It took four months.

The basic problem was our budget. We did not even consider beachfront plots or ocean views. The reality inside town was harsh: finding more than about 300 m² in an area we liked was almost impossible at our price point.

Plots around $30,000 were often tiny pieces of land on the outskirts, sometimes surrounded by containers or improvised homes built from poor materials. We did not want to live there. More attractive land roughly 300 metres from the water could approach $100,000, which was completely beyond us.

We opened the map and searched farther out

We realised that the town itself was not working for us, so we opened Google Maps and explored places a few kilometres away. Price was not the only issue. I am still in school, my sister was in second grade, and we needed a practical route to school. We also wanted space—not to squeeze onto 300 m², but to find at least 500 m².

After about a month of driving around, we came across a development about five kilometres from Piriápolis. There were many plots for sale, and most were about 1,000 m². The rules of the development were the most important part for us.

The agent told us immediately that container homes and construction with poor-quality materials were not allowed. We would not end up next to improvised structures made from scrap. For us, that was a major advantage, and it was not just a sales promise—the restrictions were later included in the documents we signed.

One day to think, although we had already decided

Around twenty plots were for sale there at the time. We took one day to think, even though we already knew the answer. We chose a higher plot so water would not collect in a low spot and told the agent we wanted it.

Then came Uruguayan bureaucracy. A few days later we paid a deposit. The document was explicit: if we changed our minds and withdrew, the deposit would not be returned. That was the point of no return.

For the transaction, we worked with two civil-law notaries, called escribanos here. Ours checked whether the seller's documents were clean. The seller's escribano provided all the paperwork for the land. They communicated directly with each other. The checks took about twenty days. Once everything matched, the seller, both escribanos and our family met at the agency and signed the sale documents.

The rule about containers was real. We signed the development's restrictions. They were strict: if someone placed a container or an improvised shed, neighbours could potentially go to court and claim that it reduced their property values. That may sound severe, but we liked knowing the area would not turn into a dump.

The most stressful part: one paper and an empty registry

At closing, our escribano handed us a purchase document. The strange part was that this piece of paper was the only place showing that we had bought the land. The registry still showed nothing.

Our escribano had to send everything for registration in Maldonado, and that process takes months. We were told that this was normal and that we needed to trust the process. We did, but honestly, it was stressful to spend two and a half months with only one paper in our hands.

While we waited, we started clearing the property. It was overgrown with eucalyptus, so we hired a crew. Over several days they cut down about fifteen large trees, removed the roots and hauled everything away. It cost around $1,500. Keeping the firewood would have cost about $2,000 because the crew normally takes the timber and discounts the job. A clear plot mattered more to us than a pile of logs.

Everything is ready; come and collect it

Eventually our escribano wrote to say that everything was ready. We received a complete folder with the history of the property and its previous owners—more than one hundred pages. We were told to protect it carefully, and we do.

There were costs on top of the land price: three percent for the agency and three percent for the escribano. We also pay annual property tax; for our plot, the rough figure is about $600 a year. These are our numbers, not a quote for every purchase.

The land is now ours, the plot is cleared, and the documents are in our hands. The next stages were electricity, water and building permission: /en/dom/dokumenty-dlya-stroiki/.