Nathan has spent the past two years skipping around Europe, conducting Zoom calls from places most of us can’t pronounce. Between flights and flat whites, he lived part-time in London with his wife, building his business and becoming the go-to man for tax audits and financial consulting. A digital nomad with a spreadsheet soul.
His company is based in the US.
His role is CEO and 100% shareholder.
His vibe is financially sound, legally sharp, and entirely unemployable in the traditional sense. Mainly because Nathan wasn’t technically employed by anyone, including himself.
So when Nathan decided to put down roots (well, at least a yoga mat) in sunny Barcelona, he applied for Spain’s newly polished digital nomad residency permit. Easy, right?
Not exactly.
⚠️ The Bureaucratic Plot Twist
Enter stage left: Spanish immigration authorities.
While Nathan’s application ticked many boxes, it lacked the one thing officials love most: a clean, cookie-cutter contract showing a fixed salary. Nathan didn’t have one. Because, again, he’s the boss.
Cue: panic?
Nope. Cue: legal brilliance.
🧠 Our Strategy (as in: Let’s Overwhelm Them with Logic)
Instead of trying to squeeze Nathan into a one-size-fits-all salary box, the legal team built a crystal-clear paper trail of:
🔹 Nathan’s monthly payouts from his company (consulting fees, reimbursements, dividends. Basically, all the revenue streams of a financial ninja)
🔹 A verified contract between Nathan’s US company and a third-party client, showing ongoing business operations and consistent income flow
🔹 Company registry certificates from two US states (because one just isn’t dramatic enough), proving both entities were legit and over a year old
🔹 A full breakdown of company expenses: colour-coded on bank statements because yes, we went there. From software subscriptions to client tools
🔹 Proof of financial health, even if the last tax return showed a loss (because smart entrepreneurs reinvest, baby)
🔹 Screenshots, statements, apostilles, and enough cross-border documentation to make Interpol sweat
📎 Then Came The Request From The Authorities
Spanish immigration hit us back with a classic move: the Solicitud Adicional. Translation? “Please give us everything. And then some.”
They asked for:
📑 Confirmation of Nathan’s ownership in his company
📑 Latest corporate tax returns
📑 Proof of productive investment and recurring income
📑 Company registry certificates from both businesses
📑 Evidence of experience or formal qualifications
📑 A plan to register with Spanish social security (sí, señor!)
And every document had to be:
✔️ Translated by a certified interpreter
✔️ Apostilled (cue dramatic stamp noises)
✔️ Presented with receipts, declarations, and a heavy dose of patience
🎯 The Outcome (Because We Don’t Do Cliffhangers)
Nathan complied, calmly and thoroughly, with every single request. His lawyers built an airtight response. Complete with supporting letters, licensing links, and a heartfelt promise to join RETA (Spain’s social security system) upon approval.
The story isn’t just about one Canadian’s love affair with the Mediterranean sun. It’s about understanding complex digital nomad cases, going beyond the usual “remote employee” narrative, and showing Spanish authorities that the world of work has changed, and so has the paperwork.
💡 What This Case Proves
✅ You can be your own boss, have flexible income, and still get approved
✅ Apostilles are annoying but powerful
✅ There’s no “standard case”, but there is a smart way through
✅ A great legal team makes the impossible… well-documented
📌 Final Thoughts
Nathan is now sipping cortados in peace. His case proves that a well-strategised approach, even in the face of regulatory complexity, can turn bureaucracy into a success story, and give a digital nomad a place to call home (with sea views and fibre optic, obviously).
Thinking of applying for a digital nomad visa in Spain?
Get yourself a clever legal team. The kind who colour-codes bank statements and knows what apostille means without googling it.