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"In Pursuit of Paradise," by A. Craig Copetas and Jo Wrighton,
Wall Street Journal Europe, 29/30 June 2001.
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Farhad Vladi sells paradise. Rolling up his trousers and shedding his shoes, the jovial Hamburg-based real estate broker has spent the past 30 years helping the worn, the weary and the wealthy find the great escape of a private island. "The psychology of private island owners is a desire to experience an alternative lifestyle away from the rat race," Mr. Vladi explains by phone from his own island in Canada. "Buyers want to get away and charge their battery for two months, and then come back to civilization."
THE 55-YEAR-OLD MR. VLADI, who has sold nearly 1,000 islands since 1971 and is considered the world's leading vendor, estimates the earth's lakes and oceans hold another 300 habitable isles, islets and coral atolls. The quickening pace of the information age and technology that makes it easier to stay in touch from afar means demand from harried professionals for remote getaways is unlikely to fade. But as they dream about their retreats, they need to ask themselves some hard questions about what they really want. Is the vineyard a working business or simply a beautiful plot of land in wine country? Is the island an untrodden wilderness, or fitted out with power and water? Paradise can be a lot of work.
"My clients are sick of fighting for a small piece of overcrowded beach, tired of neighbors and want to be in command of what they see," Mr. Vladi says. "That's our core business and the concept works."
Mr. Vladi is by no means alone in the business of purveying Eden. But while other brokers specialize in the likes of Scottish mulls and Bahamian keys, the former trainee at Deutsche Bank operates on a global scale, with outposts in Hamburg, Canada and on a New Zealand island he shares with 2,000 sheep. "What I learned at Deutsche Bank all those years ago was I didn't want to be a banker," he says. "I wanted to live on an island."
But not all men are islands or island lovers; many businesspeople looking to break away from the daily grind choose to make their escape to the land-based equivalent of an island paradise: a vineyard.
Swapping Stocks for Grapes
Two years ago, Michael Banton, 54, left his job as head of investment at Baring Asset Management in London to become a winegrower, living in an 18th-century chateau in Bordeaux. "My life is now much more relaxed," Mr. Banton says. Though he does work: The vineyard produces the equivalent of 240,000 bottles each year, under the labels Chateau Rouquette and Chateau Bel Air de l'Orme. It's more satisfying than what he was doing before, he says: "I actually produce something rather than just trying to beat the index." Munching on a meal of local rabbit in the vineyards, he adds, is much more civilized than eating the ploughman's lunch in the Barings corporate dining room.
It took Mr. Banton and his wife 10 years to fulfill their dream of swapping stocks for grapes. Through a local estate agent, the couple found Chateau Rouquette, 60 hectares wedged between the Dordogne and La Gironde - rivers. While tending his 32 hectares of vines is a great escape from city life, it does have its stresses. Wild boar on the rampage, mini-tornadoes and mildew are just some of-the problems the Bantons have faced. And then there's the different pace of rural France. It is hard to get contractors to commit to a specific timetable, Mr. Banton says. "We're always over-budget because we never get any of the capital investment done."
Buying an island is not an unencumbered transaction, either. Life on the sand carries a lot of baggage: dealing with the mechanics of arranging water and power, riding out hurricanes and honing the ability to keep a secret. "People who buy islands are shy and private," Mr. Vladi explains. "They hide themselves behind offshore companies because they don't want the information leaking out. Otherwise everyone's relatives, friends and co-workers want to visit the place and take it over."
Some people will go to outrageous lengths to become Robinson Crusoe.
Harvey Kresky, the executive director of the Los Angeles Ballet, was bitten by the paradise bug but unable to afford an island on his own. He bought a three-month option to act as the owner's representative in selling Motu Nao Nao, a 65-acre pancake island in French Polynesia complete with a 3,OOO-foot landing strip built by U.S. Navy Seabees in World War II. He hoped that in lieu of commission, he could work out a deal for squatters' rights from the buyer.
"Paradise Isn't a Place for Work"
Mr. Vladi, who is of the philosophy that "paradise isn't a place for work," says buying an island is essentially a real estate: deal, but warns each contract comes with some unique twists. In New Zealand, Australia, French Polynesia and the Bahamas, for instance, the seller and buyer might agree on a price, but the figure must be submitted to the government for final approval. "You also have to ask yourself 'what is an island?"' Mr. Vladi says. "An island is not everything that appears from the sea."
Mr. Vladi's standards are precise. Islands in politically unstable regions don't make his listings. Neither do so-called leasehold islands, where ownership is only good for a certain time, and the price is renegotiated under another leasehold package. Also out of his picture post card are islands in Thailand, Indonesia and the Philippines, where foreigners aren't allowed to own land. Perhaps most important, he suggests, is "you must be able to reach the island and be allowed a building permit for at least one house." But beachfront or vineyard, the experts says, paradise found must include clean water and no pollution.
Sidebar: Though the size and location of your personal paradise depends on the depth of your purse, there are some necessities money just can't buy. Experts suggest the ability to fly a propeller plane is essential, especially as pontoon seaplanes are usually the chief form of transportation in more remote locations without landing strips. Mechanical know-how also comes in handy. As for finding the right island, Hamburg based broker Farhad Vladi says it's a matter of taste and how deserted you want to be. Nevertheless, it's best the hideaway be situated a few hours from a major airport."
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