How We Finally Got Rid of a Parasite Tenant

Sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been juggling a new novel, teaching ESL students, and—on top of everything—the never-ending headaches that come with owning property in Argentina. And believe me, those headaches never disappoint.

If you missed my last post on this situation, here’s the short version: a tenant moved into our two-unit apartment in April. By May, she refused to pay rent or utilities, claiming the property was in “poor condition” and that the realty company we hired had committed fraud. What actually followed was months of nonsense, excuses, and shameless attempts to take advantage of us.

At one point, she asked to stay until mid-August. Her “deal” was that she’d pay utilities, but not a single peso in rent. My first reaction? Absolutely not. If she wanted to stay, she should have paid for May, June, July, and half of August. But, like the parasite she was, she said no. My second thought? Let’s sue her and drag her through the mud. Unfortunately, since my parents co-own the property, I was overruled—they wanted to take the “wait-and-see” approach.

By July, we’d had enough and told her lawyer she needed to leave. The compromise reached was simple: she wouldn’t pay rent but would leave by August 16. She’d also cover at least part of the utilities she owed.

As the date got closer, she tried one last trick. Suddenly her grandmother had “died” and she was devastated, so she needed more time. At that point, we were done being polite. We told her lawyer the only way she was staying one more day was if she paid every cent of rent she owed. Naturally, she refused.

On August 16, her lawyer showed up on time, while the tenant strolled in late—because, of course, punctuality isn’t part of the parasite lifestyle. We inspected the apartment, and guess what? The “poor condition” she had been crying about boiled down to some peeling paint from winter humidity, a collapsed kitchen cabinet, and her old complaint about water pressure (which turned out to be fine). Nothing serious. Nothing that justified four months of free rent. And let’s not forget: when she first complained back in May, she refused us access to make repairs.

The peeling paint in the bedroom

The moisture in the bathroom ceiling from showering

Kitchen cabinets

The truth was simple: the apartment was fine, the problems were minor, and she was looking for excuses to freeload. In fact, we already have a new tenant lined up for October. She has seen the apartment and can't wait to move in. So, the whole ordeal was nothing more than wasted time and frustration.

What did we learn? You can't be nice. You can't be polite. You have to stand your ground. Tenants like this will push, threaten, and make up sob stories to squeeze what they can out of you. But unless you’ve genuinely neglected something serious—like the ceiling caving in—you have more power than you think, even in Argentina where the law bends over backwards to protect tenants. As long as you can prove you were willing to handle repairs, they don’t have a leg to stand on.

So after months of dealing with this nuisance, we finally have our apartment back. And let me tell you—it feels damn good to be rid of that squatter. 

13 Years in Argentina: Egg Hunts, Existential Crises, and Everything In Between

 This June marks a major milestone for us: 13 years living in Argentina.

It hasn’t been easy. In fact, at times, it’s been a downright nightmare.

I wish I could offer something inspirational for those curious about the psychological side effects of long-term expat life — some tidy quote or takeaway — but the truth is, I don’t have one. Not right now.

If you’ve followed my last dozen posts or so, you’ll know that watching my mother’s health deteriorate — along with my father’s mental decline — has been painful in ways I’m still trying to process. Grief is complicated enough. Add thousands of miles and time zones, and it starts to feel impossible.

At the same time, we’ve been learning how to manage multiple properties here in Argentina. It’s not just about being a landlord; it’s about surviving a legal and financial labyrinth. We've had to educate ourselves on Argentine property law just to avoid being taken advantage of — by tenants, by realtors, by the system itself. The maintenance alone has been a constant drain — financially, emotionally, psychologically.

And in recent years, we’ve found ourselves retreating even further into our home. The rise in urban violence and petty theft has made that decision feel necessary, but the price of that safety has been isolation — and isolation, in turn, has fed depression.

There are days when we ask ourselves, Did we make the right choice moving here?

Sometimes, we don’t know the answer.

But amid all this heaviness, there have been some moments of light.

I’ve grown my online English teaching work steadily over the years. I’ve connected with students around the world, and some of those students have become acquaintances, even friends. And while our circle of close personal friends here has shrunk to just one, that one friendship feels real and reciprocal — without the emotional volatility or baggage we’ve sometimes endured in the past.

At almost 48 years old, I no longer have the energy — or the patience — for performative friendships or people who bring more drama than joy. Neither does my husband.

So we’ve created our own small celebrations. We recently hosted an Easter party — not because we’re religious (we’re not), and not because we’re into bunnies — but because we love chocolate, and we needed something light-hearted. We even had a mini Easter egg hunt.

And we’ve brought back our "Halfway Holidays" — Halfway to Halloween in May, Halfway to Thanksgiving in June (coming up next week), and Halfway to Christmas in July. It might sound silly, but it gives us something to look forward to, something festive in the middle of the year.

I’ll share photos of those once we’ve finished the full set. But here's a preview of what we did during Halfway to Halloween.

And here's an image of our Camp Crystal Lake themed brownie for Friday the 13th.

I’ll share photos of those once we’ve finished the full set.

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In Closing

Thirteen years is a long time to carry both love and doubt for the life you’ve built. The truth is, being an expat doesn’t get easier — not really. You just get better at carrying the weight of what you’ve lost and what you’ve chosen.

If you’re reading this hoping for reassurance, I’m not sure I can give you that. But I can tell you this: we’re still here. We’re still choosing each other. We’re still trying to make joy in small, weird, stubborn ways.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

Imported Cravings: Finding American Comfort Food in Córdoba

When we were living in the States, we never gave much thought to things like Dr. Pepper, Strawberry Nesquik, Kraft Mac and Cheese, Warheads, or even candy corn. These treats were always just a short walk to the nearest supermarket away. But since moving to Argentina, getting our hands on U.S. food products has become a lot more challenging.

Fortunately, distributors in Buenos Aires have started importing—or let’s be honest, smuggling—these tasty "contrabands" into the country, giving us a way to satisfy our cravings.

The only downside? The shipping costs. Getting items sent from Buenos Aires to Córdoba City often ends up costing nearly as much as the products themselves.

Thankfully, we’ve found a workaround, thanks to a few local businesses in Córdoba like Snack Club and Almacén de Mario—and occasionally, generous friends willing to bring things over when they travel to Argentina.

We discovered Snack Club last year and were thrilled to find an assortment of American goodies like Haribo Cream Kiss gummies, Dr. Pepper Strawberries & Cream, Cheetos Crunchy, Strawberry Nesquik, and Dr. Pepper Cream Soda and Cherry.

Now, if you live in Argentina, you’ve probably seen Cheetos in stores—but not the crunchy kind. And while Nesquik is available, it usually comes in just two flavors: chocolate and cookies & cream. Let’s face it: Argentina is not exactly known for variety when it comes to snacks.

Of course, Snack Club isn’t our only option. When we’re in the mood for Kraft Mac and Cheese, pumpkin spice, allspice seasoning, or even pepperoni, we turn to a longtime favorite: Almacén de Mario.

This store has been a staple since we first moved to Córdoba. Over the years, it’s provided us with an impressive range of U.S. food items. In addition to the staples I just mentioned, they also stock pretzels and Heinz Sweet Relish—something you’ll never find in a regular Argentine market.

Now, if you’ve read my previous posts, you already know how much we love pizza—especially pepperoni pizza. Unfortunately, that’s not something you come across easily in Argentina, and certainly not in Córdoba. But thanks to Almacén de Mario, we can now make it ourselves, since they’ve started selling pepperoni. No clue how long it’ll stay in stock (these things sell fast!), but we plan to savor every bite while it lasts.

Most recently, I was able to get my hands on two treats we’ve been craving for over 13 years: Warheads and candy corn. As far as I know, no Argentine distributor currently offers them. Luckily, one of my students—who’s also a good friend—brought over a few bags for us to enjoy.

Of course, there’s still a long list of American snacks we miss and haven’t been able to find here—Sun Chips, Almond Joy, Three Musketeers, and more. But for now, we’re grateful for the taste of home these local gems continue to offer.

Crime at the Doorstep: Our Reality in Córdoba

I live in a world of uncertainty—and it’s not what I signed up for when my husband and I moved to Córdoba City, Argentina. But this is our reality now.

If you’ve read my previous posts, you know I’m no stranger to theft and vandalism. The most recent incident happened in April.

We were in our living room, watching a movie like we do every night, when we heard a strange noise outside. At first, we assumed it was one of the local miscreants who love kicking empty soda bottles down the street. But the noise grew louder and more aggressive with each passing second.

Realizing the sound was coming from the front of the house, I rushed to the door and shouted “Hey!” as I flung it open. Just in time to catch a glimpse of some guy in a gray hoodie disappearing into the darkness. Our neighbors across the street watched the whole thing—wide-eyed but unmoving.

Moments later, one of them finally approached and said, “I couldn’t believe it! He did it right in front of us and didn’t even care. It was obviously intentional!”

Confused, I asked, “What was intentional?”

That’s when the neighbor bent down and picked something up from the ground. It was a round, metallic object with a lightbulb still inside it.

I was stunned. Then it hit me—it was our porch light. The guy had somehow ripped it right out of the wall.

I muttered something like, “Typical…” and took the broken light from the neighbor. Glass crunched under my feet as I stepped back inside and shut the door.

My hands were trembling as I showed the light fixture to my husband. He was just as shocked. I called the police, but they never came. In fact, they seemed more surprised that I was asking them to respond at all. “What do you expect us to do?” they asked. I replied, “Nothing. Same as always—which is why your country is in the state it’s in.”

Whenever something like this happens, I tend to think I’m being singled out. But reading the local news reminded me this kind of thing is all too common. Honestly, we got off easy. Just weeks later, I read about a woman in another neighborhood whose home was riddled with bullets.

And most recently, one of the properties we own had the electricity meter yanked out of the wall.

I wish I could say I have hope that things will improve, but after 13 years here, all I’ve seen is steady decline. I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record—I've written before about falling victim to crime—but it’s the truth.

Living here means learning to cope with chaos, even when it becomes heartbreakingly routine. 

Halloween Vibes All Year? Kripta in Buenos Aires Delivers

Whether you're celebrating Friday the 13th, Halfway to Halloween, classic Halloween on October 31st, or you simply embrace a spooky vibe all year long, there's a shop in Buenos Aires that you'll love. It's called Kripta, and the best part? They deliver anywhere in Argentina.

If you check out their Instagram or website, you’ll find a treasure trove of spooky goodies—everything from stickers and shelves to pillows and even Christmas ornaments with a scary twist, like the ones pictured below.

We actually ordered a couple of these ornaments for our Creepmas celebration in 2024—a holiday that’s basically Christmas, but with a Halloween flair. Honestly, we’re already eyeing more ornaments and anything else we can fit into our budget.

That said, there were two minor issues with Kripta’s service that are worth mentioning. First, some iconic villains were missing from their ornament lineup. We were hoping to see characters like the Creeper from Jeepers Creepers and Leatherface from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I sent them a message on Instagram with a list of suggestions for 2025, but unfortunately, they never responded—which felt a bit disappointing.

The second issue was with the build quality of a few ornaments. While some, like the Ouija-themed one shown above, are 3D printed and sturdy, others—such as Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger—are essentially stickers on a flat surface. That wouldn’t have bothered me much, except I noticed a couple of weeks later that the stickers had started to peel.

Despite these hiccups, I still plan on ordering more from Kripta this year. The charm and creativity of their products outweigh the flaws, and I’m determined to convince them to add more horror icons to their ornament collection.

So, if your heart beats for horror and you love adding a spooky twist to your decor, Kripta is absolutely worth checking out.

Finding a Slice of Home: Our Favorite American-Style Pizza Spots in Córdoba

For the last 13 years, it has been my hope—and obsession—to find a pizza place in Córdoba that’s a lot more American and a lot less Argentine.

Over time, my husband and I have had the opportunity to try American-style pizza at places like Hell’s Pizza in Mar del Plata, and Bronx Pizza, Ugi’s, and Sbarro in Buenos Aires.

Of course, our home province of Córdoba hasn’t done too badly either. Restaurants like Big Mamma’s, Chicago American Bar, and PIBI Güemes have served up some decent pizzas that reminded us of home.

But over the past year or so, we’ve discovered two new pizza spots in Córdoba City that have made our taste buds very happy.

The most recent one we tried is called DOM Gastronomía & Arte. While the size of their pizzas may not be as impressive as the ones from Big Mamma’s, Sbarro, or back home, the flavor absolutely deserves a round of applause.

Our favorite is the Mexican-style pizza, which comes loaded with red and green peppers, as well as onions. But best of all—it’s VERY, VERY SPICY.

Now, spicy food isn’t exactly common in Argentina. In fact, most Argentines avoid anything even remotely spicy. But my husband and I love it—probably thanks to his Puerto Rican roots and my U.S. upbringing.

Mexican-Styled Pizza

Another favorite is, of course, the pepperoni pizza (shown above). Pepperoni still isn’t a common topping in Córdoba City, but it’s way easier to find now than it was when we first moved to Argentina.

As for the dough, both flavors are pleasantly soft—no overbaked crusts that require T-Rex teeth to chew through. And that’s a win in my book, because at nearly 50, my teeth just aren’t what they used to be!

But there's another pizza place we’ve been enjoying for the last few years that I haven’t really highlighted until now: Bravucona. And sadly, I've learned that they have recently gone out of business. However, they definitely deserve to be mentioned.

As you can see, the shape wasn’t your typical round pizza—it was more of an oval. But don’t let that fool you. It was still delicious.

They often drizzled the top with barbecue sauce, which I personally loved.

The only downside to Bravucona’s pizza was that the crust could get a bit hard—especially if you didn’t eat it right away. Fresh out of the oven, it was great. But once it cooled down, the crust turned to stone. Unfortunately, reheating didn’t help much either.

Still, Bravucona had a bonus that we couldn’t resist: donuts. The donuts came in fun shapes, colors, and even with little faces showing all kinds of moods.

But what I loved most was that they were filled—with Bavarian cream and jelly! This was a big departure from typical Argentine pastries, which are almost always filled with dulce de leche.

Don’t get me wrong—I like dulce de leche just fine. But sometimes, we craved a little more variety in our donut fillings.

So, which one was better: DOM or Bravucona?

The truth is, there was no clear winner—both offered something special in their own way.

The hubs always leaned more toward Bravucona. I’ll admit, I loved their donuts. But when it comes to pizza, I still prefer DOM—for its classic shape and soft, flavorful crust.

Even as places come and go, one thing’s for sure—Córdoba’s pizza scene is finally starting to feel a little more like home.

Plumbing Problems, Late Payments, and Professional Bullshit (Landlord Life Part 4)

In my last post, I talked about how the tenant on the first floor of our two-unit apartment was refusing to pay rent until she got back both her first month’s rent and the realty company’s administrative fees. She’s also initiating legal action against the realty company, claiming she was scammed. We still don’t know how that’s going to play out.

Meanwhile, our second-floor tenant is now dealing with a similar water pressure issue—just like the tenant downstairs.

The difference is, when we sent a plumber to check her apartment, he found water leaking from a pipe connected to her bidet and possibly from behind the toilet or sink. This long-term leak might even be the cause of the humidity problems the first-floor tenant keeps complaining about.

The plumber is also going to inspect the water tank on the roof to see if he can fix the pump. That pump’s been off for years because when it was on, it was supposed to stop once the tank was full—just like a toilet. But it didn’t always stop. The damn thing would overflow, flood the rooftop, and cause water damage. So yeah, I’m not exactly eager to reactivate it. But if it means our tenants will finally get better water flow, I’ll suck it up and give it another shot.

But back to the second-floor tenant. In a previous post, I mentioned how she constantly forgets to pay her utility bills on time, and how I’ve had to remind her every month. So, as a courtesy, I offered to simplify things last month by including utilities with the rent. That way, she’d just pay me one lump sum, and I’d handle the bills.

This was supposed to make things easier. But on May 10th—the deadline for rent payments—she didn’t pay. As I’ve mentioned before, after the 10th, late fees (called mora) start to pile up. So, on the 11th, I reminded her.

She said she’d pay that night. Then she sent me a bullshit message claiming that she had opened a new bank account and the ATM she was using wouldn’t accept her debit card.

I called her bluff immediately. You don’t need an ATM or debit card to transfer money in Argentina. All you need is the CBU or the alias of the account. She’s known this for three years. Suddenly, she was playing dumb—or thought I was.

I warned her to cut the shit because those late fees were going to stack up daily. And believe me, I was fully prepared to shove those fees down her throat if needed. I also told her that I had already paid the utility bills out of pocket to avoid getting hit with interest.

She fired back saying, “No one charges interest for late utility payments.” Then she threw in the classic excuse: “I haven’t had water in the apartment for several days.” How convenient that she remembered this after I asked for rent and utility payments.

I was at the end of my rope, but I kept it professional. I told her I’d waive the late fees if she paid everything within five days.

Less than five minutes later, the money was in my account—from the same bank account she’s been using for years.

I could’ve called her out for lying, but honestly? Screw it. She paid. That’s all I cared about in the moment.

But come June, I’m sure she’ll come up with another excuse. And with everything I’m dealing with from the first-floor tenant, I don’t think I have the energy left to be diplomatic with her too.

----------------------------------------------------

So, to wrap up this four-part property saga, here’s what I’ve learned:

Never trust a realty company in Argentina.

They absolutely suck. They try to charge both the owner and the tenant a ton of fees. Some of them even charge tenants upfront for every single month of a two-year lease. It’s insane and completely unfair.

These real estate companies are like a damn mafia. They’re in it for themselves and don’t give a shit about you or your tenants. Honestly, managing the property myself—frustrating as it is—is still better than relying on these so-called “professionals.”

Also, be careful with lawyers.

They’ll charge you a fortune and do next to nothing. And if you’re a homeowner, don’t expect the law to protect you here. Trust me, we’ve learned this the hard way.

And when it comes to tenants—don’t be rude, but don’t take their bullshit either.

Remind them that they’re living in your property. If you don’t, they’ll walk all over you—like the two tenants we’re dealing with now, and like the last ones who left the place in shambles.

When Tenants and Realty Companies Collide (Landlord Life Part 3)

If you've read the previous two posts about being a property owner and renting to tenants in Argentina, then you already know this journey has been a bumpy one. Unfortunately, it hasn’t gotten any easier.

About three weeks after the first-floor tenant moved in (yes, the same one I mentioned in earlier posts), the realty company sent me a WhatsApp message with a laundry list of complaints she had about the apartment.

Here’s what she reported:

• A broken kitchen cabinet

• A broken toilet seat

• Peeling paint due to humidity

• Mold stains in the bathroom (again, thanks humidity)

• A back door that was hard to open

• Low water pressure

Now, some of these things were simple and relatively affordable fixes. Others? Not so much. I had particular concerns about the toilet seat. We had literally bought a brand-new one. It was still wrapped when she moved in. All she had to do was install it herself — and trust me, it’s super easy.

How did she break it? No idea.

Did she close the lid and park her butt on it?

Did she use it as a step stool?

No clue.

Then there’s the issue of the water pressure. I told the realty company multiple times to let any potential tenants know the apartment has water pressure problems. Even with a pump in the tank, the pressure will never be great. This isn’t our first rodeo — we've dealt with similar complaints from previous tenants.

I assumed the realty company was passing this info along to the tenant. Spoiler alert: they weren’t. But more on that in a sec.

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Enter the “Architect”

The realty company was super eager to address the tenant’s complaints and offered to send an “architect” to inspect the property.

This architect worked exclusively for the realty company and would only come if we paid him 50,000 Argentine pesos. That’s an absurd price for someone who was just going to look and not fix a damn thing. So, we said no. We told them we’d find our own plumber/handyman.

Still, supposedly at the tenant’s insistence, the realty company scheduled someone else to come out and inspect the unit — and invited us to be there for it.

So, on a Saturday afternoon, we showed up.

No one came.

Not the inspector.

Not the tenant.

Nothing.

And since the realty company has the shittiest work hours (Monday to Friday, 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.—if you're lucky), there was no one around to explain what the hell happened.

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Ghosting, Excuses, and Rent Drama

On Monday, I messaged the realty company asking for answers. They gave me some generic bullshit about how they didn’t know what had happened and that they’d "look into it."

Spoiler alert: they never got back to me.

Meanwhile, it was time for the tenant to pay her second month of rent. According to the contract, rent is due by the 10th of each month. If she misses that deadline, she’s charged a 1% late fee per day, starting from the 1st, not the 11th.

I reached out to the realty company asking why the rent hadn’t hit our account. They told me she had paid, but their system was “processing it.”

A few days later, I followed up again.

This time they ignored most of my messages.

Then suddenly, they changed their story:

The tenant hadn’t paid.

She was refusing to pay because of the condition of the apartment.

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Cutting Ties with the Realty Company

We were furious. My parents and I cut ties with the realty company. Of course, they claimed they were the ones who cut us off — apparently we had disrespected them and they just couldn’t tolerate such behavior.

Let me tell you: we were calm and professional the entire time. Were we annoyed? Absolutely. But disrespectful? Hell no. If we had been, trust me — we would have torn them a new one.

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Dealing with the Tenant Directly

Now left on our own, we scheduled a meeting with the first-floor tenant to hear her out and brought a plumber/handyman to check out her so-called issues.

Meanwhile, she brought her lawyer.

She said she wanted to move out — which was perfectly fine by us — but she wouldn’t leave unless she got her money back.

At first, I thought she meant the 250,000 pesos for the first month’s rent. Turns out she also wanted back the nearly 1 million pesos in administrative fees she paid the realty company for the two-year contract.

We were open to refunding the 250,000, but there was no way we were paying back the 1 million — that wasn’t our fee.

So now the tenant and her lawyer are planning to sue the realty company, accusing them of fraud to try and recover that money. Until then, she gets to stay in our apartment rent free and without having to pay any of the utilities until this is resolved. How fucked up is that?!?!

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What’s Next?

What will happen next? Honestly, no clue. But this whole experience has turned into a real fucking nightmare.

We’re hoping for a peaceful resolution — ideally, the tenant leaves without causing more problems for us. But in Argentina, the law almost always favors tenants, not landlords. So who knows how this will play out?

And trust me, this shitstorm isn’t over yet.

If you read the previous post, then you know we’ve also had issues with the second-floor tenant — especially getting her to sign the new two-year lease (which she eventually did). But two more problems have cropped up. One is an old one. The other? It’s connected to the first-floor tenant.

But I’ll save that mess for the next post.

When the Realty Company Fails You (Landlord Life Part 2)

Navigating my way through the ups and downs of being a property owner in Argentina was way more than I bargained for. It's why I hired a realty company to handle most of the administrative work and legal headaches. I thought this would make things easier. It didn’t.

The realty company did manage to find a new tenant for the first-floor apartment fairly quickly, though there were a couple of hiccups. For starters, I had to review the contract thoroughly to screen for any mistakes or hidden loopholes. I found a few — but more on that in my next post.

Now, let’s talk about what happened with the tenant living on the second floor.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I asked the realty company to prepare a new contract for the second-floor tenant of the two-unit building I own. The clock was ticking — we only had until the end of March before her old contract expired.

But of course, there were complications.

In the third week of March, I messaged the realty company via WhatsApp for an update. They had no clue how to contact the tenant or even what her name was. I was irate, to say the least. I calmly asked whether the sales rep I’d spoken to had passed along all the information I provided. A quick database check showed he had input the details — but hadn’t told anyone on the admin team. Brilliant.

They asked for the tenant's contact info, which I provided, and they promised to reach out immediately. But then I received an automated WhatsApp message saying the admin team was taking a “much-needed mental break” and wouldn’t return until March 26th.

My blood turned to lava.

I fired off another message demanding to know how the hell they planned to work on the tenant's contract if they were off until the 26th.

One of the reps assured me they’d continue working on it despite being officially on vacation.

“Fine,” I thought. At least they were getting the ball rolling. I wasn’t even worried — we still had two weeks left.

Well, by Friday I got a message saying the tenant hadn’t responded to their outreach. So I reached out to her myself via WhatsApp. No immediate response. I updated the realty company. All I got was a “keep me posted” type of response. Useless.

A few days later, the tenant finally contacted me. She said she was out of town and having trouble driving back to Argentina. In my head, I was thinking, How fucking convenient. She knew she had to be here to sign, and now suddenly she wasn’t even in the country — allegedly struggling to get back to Córdoba. But she promised to contact the realty company on Monday with the information they needed to verify her co-signers.

What royally pissed me off was her attitude — like we had all the time in the world until March 31st. I told her, No, we needed this done before the 31st.

You're probably wondering why we even needed this done if she’d already been living there for three years. Well, her previous contract was with a different realty company. We needed to verify her new co-signers to make sure she could actually afford the rent hike — from 87,000 pesos to 220,000 pesos.

On March 26th, the realty company messaged me saying they still hadn’t heard from her. I was beyond pissed. I contacted the tenant again. Nothing. Then on the 28th, the realty company told me they finally received her information. But it was 10 minutes before they closed for the weekend.

So we had to wait until Monday, the 31st.

Remember when I said we needed this done before the 31st? Yeah — at that point, I felt like both the tenant and the realty company had wiped their asses with me. I was ready to tell them both to fuck off.

Somehow, I managed to hang on to what little restraint I had left.

Obviously, the realty company now had to speak with the tenant’s co-signers, who — surprise — weren’t very cooperative.

By April 9th, neither the tenant nor her co-signers had made a fucking move to sign the lease.

At that point, eviction started to feel inevitable. But then — out of nowhere — the realty company told me the tenant had finally come in to sign, and two of the three co-signers had as well. Not ideal, but at that point, I’d take what I could get.

The good news? I could finally give her the total amount due for April: rent, water, and a past-due electricity bill.

Now, speaking of utilities...

This tenant and I have had multiple conversations about her failure to pay the damn light and gas bills on time — three separate occasions in just five months. Finally, I told her I’d lump all the unpaid utility bills in with her rent. Once she paid, I would take care of paying the service providers. Honestly, this is a courtesy I shouldn’t have to extend to a grown-ass adult.

But I’ve noticed a trend: tenants just don’t pay their utility bills. And it fucking sucks. I hate having to remind grown-ass people to pay their goddamn bills. And it’s not like they’ve ever claimed financial hardship. No. The excuses? “I forgot” or “I didn’t have time.” That’s it.

In summary: managing residential property in Argentina is like taking care of babies.

But for a brief moment, it seemed like everything was okay. The tenants from the other property had moved out, so we could begin repairs. We had a new tenant for the first floor. And the second-floor tenant had finally — finally — renewed her contract.

Then, a new nightmare surfaced.

The Hidden Challenges of Being a Landlord in Argentina (Landlord Life Part 1)

Being a property owner in Argentina is a lot tougher than I thought it would be. My parents have been managing properties here since they moved in 2007, and honestly, I have no idea how they've kept it up all these years.

I used to think it was as simple as telling tenants how much rent to pay, keeping contracts current, and handling repairs when needed. Turns out, it’s way more complicated than that.

Now don’t get me wrong—I actually enjoy administrative work. Back home, I had entire teams or companies supporting me, so everything was pretty straightforward. But here, it’s a different story. I'm on my own, navigating unfamiliar legal systems with limited knowledge of Argentine property laws.

Saying the last few months have been a steep learning curve would be putting it lightly.

For those of you who haven’t read my earlier post, we’ve been dealing with a serious issue at one of our properties. My parents tried to evict tenants without following the proper legal process, which backfired hard. We ended up going months without rent and with zero communication from the tenants. Fortunately, the situation was eventually resolved—but not without some costly lessons.

By March 2025, the tenants had finally caught up on overdue rent and most of their utility bills. Even better, they agreed to move out by the end of the month because they could no longer afford the rent.

Music to our ears.

But when they left, they didn’t exactly go quietly—or cleanly. The paint was peeling off the walls from the humidity. The front door was damaged and wouldn’t lock properly.

Normally, tenants are expected to return the property in the same condition they received it. But given the drama—legal threats, physical threats—it was just safer to let them walk away.

So, was this a win? Maybe. We got rid of tenants who were clearly a problem, but the property now needs major repairs before it can start generating income again. Time and money we hadn’t planned to spend.

And that wasn’t our only headache.

In early March, we hired a real estate company. They seemed okay—not great by American standards, but decent enough for Argentina, where service quality tends to be... inconsistent.

The company sent a salesperson to assess the first floor of a two-unit apartment in another location. He was friendly, seemed knowledgeable, and took a few photos while we filled him in on the unit’s quirks—most notably, the low water pressure, which is common in southern Córdoba City. He assured us it wouldn’t be a problem and promised to disclose it to any potential tenants before signing a lease.

While he was there, I also asked him to help renew the lease for the tenant in the upstairs unit. “Sure, no problem!” he said. “Just send over the details and our admin team will handle it.”

Everything seemed to be going smoothly.

Too smoothly.

I waited through the second week of March and hadn’t heard a thing. I assumed they were working behind the scenes to find a tenant for the first floor and drafting the new lease for the upstairs unit.

But when I followed up on WhatsApp, the administrative team had no clue what I was talking about.

I could literally feel my blood pressure spike.

After pressing for answers, they finally admitted the issue: the salesperson had entered everything into their system, but never informed the admin staff to act on it. Apparently, he only handles sales and hadn’t passed the info along.

I had made it clear—I wanted the first floor rented by early April. That would have been ideal, but not essential. What was essential was getting the upstairs tenant’s new lease signed before her contract expired at the end of March.

I told them that was non-negotiable. That contract had to be finalized by March 31st.

What happened next? Well… let’s just say it turned into a full-blown nightmare.

But I’ll save that story for next time.