My Published Articles for ViewsHound: Can Foreigners Buy Real Estate in the Philippines?

Monday, August 10, 2015

Can Foreigners Buy Real Estate in the Philippines?

I have been asked by friends and relatives if our three children can owned land in the Philippines since they are US citizens by birth.

Our children were born in the US when my wife and I were still Filipino citizens residing in US as Permanent residents. The following from pinoymoneytalk.com answers the above question.

1. Can I purchase several lots located in different cities and municipalities if the total area of all lots does not exceed 5,000 square meters of urban land or three hectares of rural land?

Answer: A former natural-born Philippine citizen can acquire not more than two lots situated in different municipalities or cities and the total area of the two lots should not exceed 5,000 square meters of urban land or three hectares of rural land.

2.If I am allowed to own a maximum of two lots situated in different municipalities or cities, can I own a 5,000-square-meter urban lot in Quezon City and three hectares of rural land and vice versa.

Answer: No. A former natural-born Philippine citizen who has already acquired urban land shall be disqualified from acquiring rural land and vice versa.

3 When my children were born, I was already an American citizen. Can they inherit my land in the Philippines?

Answer: Yes. Foreign nationals (even if they were not former natural-born Philippine citizens) can own land in the Philippines if they acquire it by inheritance. These nationals should, however, inherit the property by intestate succession. Intestate succession means that the foreign national inherits the property because he/she is an heir under Philippine law. Naming one’s heir by executing a “last Will and Testament” or a “Living Will” will not work to validly transfer real property in the Philippines to a foreign national.

4. My husband is a natural-born American citizen. Can he buy a condominium unit in the Philippines and have the title in his name?

Answer: Yes. The land on which a condominium building stands is always owned by a condominium corporation. When a person buys a condominium unit, he automatically becomes a stock-holder in the corporation which owns the land. Under Philippine law, foreigners are allowed to become stockholders of a corporation which own land but only up to a maximum of forty percent (40%) of the shares of the corporation. Foreigners, therefore, are allowed to own condominium units provided the total floor area owned by all foreigners in the condominium building does not exceed forty percent (40%).

Here are additional information regarding citizenship relevant to Filipino expats with children born outside of the Philippines.

1. What are the conditions that should be met for my child to be deemed a Filipino citizen?

Answer: Your child is a Filipino citizen if he qualifies under any of the following conditions:

Your child was born after January 17, 1973, with a Filipino father or a Filipino mother. In other words, if a child was born after January 17, 1973, he is a Filipino citizen if he has at least one parent who is a Filipino citizen at the time of his birth;
Your child was born before January 17, 1973, with a Filipino mother and your child elected Philippine citizenship when he reached his 21st birthday. If your child was born before January 17, 1973, with a Filipino father, he is a Filipino citizen without any need of electing Filipino citizenship upon reaching the age of 21;

Incidentally, January 17, 1973, is the date when the 1973 Philippine Constitution came into effect; thus the importance of the date.

2. Our son was born in the US at the time when my wife and I were still Filipino citizens. One week after our son’s birth, however, my wife and I took our oath as US citizens. Did our son lose his Philippine citizenship when we became American citizens?

Answer: No. The child was vested with the Philippine citizenship at the time of his birth. He does not lose his Philippine citizenship even if the parents acquire foreign citizenship after his birth.

3. My daughter was born in the US at the time when my wife and I were still Filipino citizens. My daughter has been using a US passport for 20 years. She has never visited the Philippines. Is my daughter considered a Philippine citizen even if she already is an American citizen?

Answer: Yes. Philippine law allows dual citizenship. A child can both be an American citizen and a Filipino citizen at the same time. Under present laws, a person loses his Philippine citizenship if he renounces it. Using a US passport exclusively and not visiting Philippines does not amount to a renunciation of Philippine citizenship.

4. If my child is born in the US at the time when my wife and I are still Filipino citizens, what should we do to document his Philippine citizenship?

Answer: A copy of the child’s birth certificate should be submitted to the nearest Philippine consulate will transmit the birth certificate to the National Statistics Office in the Philippines for registration purposes.

5. If a child is born in the US at the time when his parents are still Filipino citizens, can he later on run for President of the Republic of the Philippines?

Answer: Yes, The child is a natural-born Filipino citizen. A natural-born Filipino citizen is one who does not have to do anything to acquire Philippine citizenship because he is a Filipino from birth. On the other hand, a naturalized Filipino citizen is one who has to undergo a naturalization proceeding to acquire Philippine citizenship. The distinction is important because only natural-born Filipino citizens can become President, Vice President, Senator, Congressman, Supreme Court Justice, and other propositions in constitutional bodies.

Source: pinoymoneytalk.com

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Guest Article from Susan Creamer Joy

In The Silence, by Susan Creamer Joy.

Today's guest article is from Susan Creamer Joy. Susan is one of my favorite authors in the ViewsHound community. Susan writes, draws, paints and cobbles together art from found objects making a variety of creations from jewelry to religious shrines. She frequently sports burns on her fingers from her soldering iron, paint on her palms and ink under her fingernails, but her hair is usually combed. When she is not losing time in the creative vortex of her studio, she is likely to be putting her knowledge of metaphysics and esoteric principles including Tarot, numerology, astrology and graphology to good use in consultations. Her children are grown, her husband still works and her four dogs believe she needs serious help. The title of her article is "A Matter Of Love And Death". Thank you Susan.

By the time they reached my bedroom door, I was already sitting up – my stomach ratcheted in the tense grip of an unnamed anxiety; my pillow, unburdened of my drowsy head.

To this day I cannot explain how I heard them coming up those stairs in their bare feet or how I knew that my father struggled to hold his composure as my mother unnaturally clutched at the folds of her dressing gown and followed him through the dark just a little too closely.

As the wooden groan of those old stairs tore into my bones that morning like a hacksaw, all I could see between the predawn shadows was the letter I’d written just hours earlier to my boyfriend, Chris, propped against the lamp on my desk across the room awaiting an envelope.

I had not slept well. It was late November and there had been so many changes since the middle of August when he left for the Air Force in Texas to begin basic training and I began my third new school in as many years.

The conspiracy between fate and the last surge of the Vietnam draft had broken apart the every-waking-minutes of our two-year union with unceremonious indifference. All that night my sleep had been infested by difficult dreams and by the illogical fear that truth and reality were merging into a darkness only a martyr could grasp; and at sixteen, martyrdom seemed reasonable only for the nuns among the poor in Bangladesh

I tried to remind myself that he would be home on leave for Thanksgiving in another few days. It was the only tether to calm I could find, but reviewing the facts offered little relief from my baseless fears.

Chris had been girding his pacifist sensibilities preparing to fight in an unpopular war that had not yet slaughtered its last innocent. I was hovering just over the line of inclusion at an exclusive girl’s school – missing him – and finding myself at odds with these young women and their attachment to propriety and with the prep-school veneer that blinded them to the fact that they were no better than anyone else.

Neither one of us was coping well with the worlds into which we were respectively summoned, and although we both knew that the best hope for any future together depended upon our individual successes apart, it was far from comforting most days.

But in spite of our discomfort, we each did our best; and, of course, there were the letters: Thin, plain-paper sheets with row after row after row of inky blue words penned with the intensity and awkward locutions of a love learned too soon. It had come down to just that little, but without them, I would have had nothing.

Chris was learning to fly. I was learning to drive, and both of us were aching to transport our souls to an earlier time through the hallowed intercourse of memories and dreams. Of course, as with all progress, there was the positive element: We were both clean and drug-free for the first time in years.

Now, without pretense, both healthy cognition and sincere motivation surfaced regularly in my psychology and prompted me to care about myself and to arbitrate against all temptation for a better standing in the world, in school and in my own eyes. I even did my homework.

No longer was I escaping today but, instead, living for my day of escape. Lying still in the dark of my room, I listened to the slow, padded footfall of my parents approaching and looked to the floor and to my history book half hidden beneath the nightstand where I’d tossed it the night before. Even in this early morning dark I could make out the swirls and stars in colored marker and the bubble-formed letters that spelled C H R I S in soft, juvenile curves on the torn book cover I’d fashioned out of a brown paper grocery bag.

I vaguely remembered throwing it there somewhat hastily. I had been doing my homework when a sense of urgency struck and I realized I had not written him as I promised I would and glancing at the clock, I noted it was nine-twenty-three. Why that mattered I had no way of knowing in that strange moment, but within hours, it would be one I would never forget; and although I was becoming drowsy and still needed to finish my work, I felt beyond reason that my letter to him could not wait.

So, I wrote. I would always write. I would always be there. He would always be there.“Suzi."It was my name spoken in the smooth and familiar voice of my mother, although weighted and slow, her head bowed to her chest almost as though she were speaking only to herself.

"Suzi.” She said it again, this time with sharp gravity, like a chisel against stone.

As if on cue, I leaned forward, flanked now by my parents who were sitting on either side of my bed.

I had been waiting for them. I don’t know how. I didn’t know why. The lights in my room remained off, but it seemed that the darkness clung more to them than to me, as though they were holding it there – away from me to give me enough light to see through the next moment. They were crying. My father was crying. My father. “Suzi. We have something very, very bad to tell you." Chris has been in a car accident." And he was killed."

If the world moved forward from that moment, I could not know it. f there were air around me worth breathing, I could not take it in. And if there were another sound beyond the leaden bellow of my own raw grief, I could not hear it.

"Who am I going to talk to? Who am I going to love?” I wailed. Who will love me? In that sodden moment violated by the intrusion of a predawn light that had no business rising, everything I ever believed about happiness, hoped for in life, trusted in or held as my own was annihilated.

After that – there was no after that. After that came months of hollow redundancies that would inform my way of being in the world for years to come. A serial commitment to waking up each morning, remembering he was gone and dedicating the remaining hours to forgetting. To that end I would try anything, drink anything, ingest anything, inject anything. It was a slow and arbitrary suicide by indifference.

Many years later, at 25 years-old and in the midst of a pharmaceutical free-fall leaning dangerously close to terminal, I discovered that I was expecting a child, and after a decade of forgetting, I remembered. I named him Griffin after the legendary winged lion, a symbol of the divine because what he inspired and the miracle that he was, were nothing less. I remembered and I loved again, and I went on to marry and to the gift of two beautiful daughters.

Today my son is struggling not to drown in the same well of drug abuse and apathy that almost swallowed me – his great, divine wings clipped by his own hand; and while it is up to him to restore his place in the sky, I will do my best to help provide an open runway.

In the meantime, I will continue soaring for both of us; bequeathed as I have been, with a determination to fly from a boy whose ragged fate precluded that dream.

Death took one young man from me once upon a dark time. If it has any intention of coming for this one, it will have to go through me. And trust me, it will be in for one hell of a fight.

Note: If you enjoy this article, please let me know.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Can Foreigners Buy Real Estate in the Philippines?

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