WHAT started out as a dream work assignment/vacation to the south of France, is quickly turning into a nightmare - because it just won’t end.

I should be at home in Singapore now. But I am instead trapped in Nice, all alone, with cash running low and little fresh laundry and toiletries left. That my “prison” happens to be one of France’s most picturesque coastal cities is scant consolation.

Over the last few days, my days have been spent shuttling to train stations and fighting off crowds. As if things could not get any worse, train workers have also decided to go on strike – adding to the already chaotic situation caused by the giant volcanic ash cloud that hangs over parts of Europe.

Both my flights, from Nice to Paris, then from Paris to Singapore, have been cancelled.

Even though countries have slowly started to reopen their airspace, the threat of a second ash plume may brings things back to square one. Poland, as it were, decided to close its airspace again.

So, I have to resorted to exploring other ways – but the problem is, I am not alone.
At the Gare SCNF train station, where I have been haunting for the past few days, it had been a messy picture with travellers fighting to find their way home via rail transport.

But just as trains were proving to be a reprieve for frustrated and tired travellers, rail workers decided to go on strike over the weekend. This most untimely strike meant that thousands were left with no option, save for other, pricier options such as taking a taxi or renting a car. The strike thankfully ended on Monday.

But as one could imagine, the reopening of the train network caused even more of a mess as there was now a backlog from the weekend traffic. Travellers, trudging along huge backpacks and trolley bags, swarmed the station, trying to grab the limited seats on the trains back home. Queues snaked at the ticket counters, while the information desk and even the tourism centre in Nice were overwhelmed with enquiries.

For everyone, it has become a game of finding various alternate routes back home or to airports that are still open. News of flights making it out of Europe gave many, including me, hope.

But at the Nice Cote d’azur airport, I fared little better. The flight departure and arrival boards were full of cancellations, and travellers wandered about, looking lost.
But at least I had free coffee and biscuits, which the airport offered to everyone.

The few flights that were operating, seem to be all full, with people creating a big rush at the check-in counters. That the airport is operating on a day-to-day basis adds to the uncertainty.

With a lack of options, tourists have been forced to remain in the city. At my hotel, a chat with the receptionist revealed that guests have been returning to extend their stays, after being turned away at the airport.

At internet cafes, I spotted people frantically trying to book flights at terminals. I too, am doing the same, checking out which flights, even those at ungodly timings, are available, just so I can finally come home.

Stranded tourists are everywhere. A British girl I struck up a conversation with during a day trip out of Nice, told me she was stranded here for at least another three days. Like what everyone else is doing, she had booked a train to Paris, where she is taking the EuroStar, a high speed rail network connecting Britain and France, back home to London.

But it does not help that Europe is an expensive place to be stranded in, for a Singaporean at least. Phone calls home cost a bomb and there are no $2 chicken rice in sight. A simple sandwich will already set you back about $6. My stash of euro, which is dwindling, would have to be stretched, so I survive on baguettes and biscuits. Of equal concern is my supply of fresh clothes and toiletries, which I have to make last, as well.

The reopening of the airspace is encouraging. But given the thousands of stranded passengers, it will probably be days before I can even think of making it home.

Once I got inside, however, it was a different story.

Two police cars, four or five police officers and a whole horde of angry residents (what looked like a  100 people) were noisily milling around the lobby entrance last Sunday night at about 9.30pm.

Concerned residents called the police. PHOTO: Samuel He

ST photographer Samuel He was already there,  snapping pictures of the ongoing commotion; affected tenants had already let him into their apartments to shoot what was at the heart of the commotion: illegally partitioned but well furnished rooms.

To give a pared down version of the fiasco, about 200 tenants have been asked to vacate their apartments due to their landlord (Ideal Accommodation) flouting URA rules.

Entire apartments had been illegally partitioned into smaller rooms so they could be rented out to more people - 357 rooms have been turned into 600 rooms.

URA informed Ideal a month ago, who for some reason only known to themselves, waited until last Wednesday  to inform some residents.

Many tenants only heard of it on Sunday, which really only leaves them three days to find another suitable apartment and move all their things out.

Most, from what I found, are working professionals hailing from the US, UK, Hong Kong, Korea, Vietnam, India, Philippines.

At the meeting held in the lobby, apparently a few of them had gotten incensed enough to call the police as they feared for their possessions, their deposits (with the agent) and rent paid upfront.

They want to get their money back, but Ideal Accommodation would not answer their calls. Many looked lost, and had not even started to pack their things, in the hope of a last minute reprieve.

A few said, "What should I do? I've to work and find an apartment and move out at the same time? At least give me a few weeks!"

But some were resigned to the fact, already piling their things into trucks and cars earlier in the afternoon when I visited the first time.

Some residents just decided to pack up and leave. PHOTO: Lim Wui Liang

One Filipino named Mikey said that he was forced to settle for an apartment after looking for just one day. He was sharing a room with his sister.

The allure of the condo and its location for these expatriate professionals and students — if they were less than fussy — was apparent to me.

The rent was very cheap for a choice location in town — between $900 to $1,400 for a big room which some share.

The condition of the apartments and rooms looked far better than  the many illegal dorms out there —  there were proper beds, washing machines, even a LCD TV and Internet connection!

The partitions looked expertly done, like real walls.

"They're certainly not shower screens!" one tenant cheekily said, and then let me into his room, which looked cosy and exactly what his bedroom at home would have looked like.

I learnt later that Ideal paid $3m for all the fittings, in the hope of luring the more well-off tenants.

But there were signs of neglect by the landlord.

One tenant, who introduced himself as Mr Ashish and said he is working here as an investment banker, beckoned us to take a look at his apartment, where he is the only tenant renting a room for now.

Before I even entered it, I was shocked — the entire door's hinges were off, he couldn't even lock the door to protect himself against strangers and burglars.

He told us ever since it had happened suddenly a week ago, he had been locking his possessions in his bedroom every day.

Still, it could not deter shoe thieves.

"I can't even find out who did it. I've called Ideal many times but they just didn't come to repair the door," he said.

Many times, the cleaners have entered his apartment to clean the living rooms, but left his lights switched on the whole day. "Guess who's paying the electricity bills?" he wryly asked.

In the wake of this incident, Ideal Accommodation has not tried to meet up with the affected tenants to give a proper explanation. They have not answered repeated calls either.

All they released were copies of their appeals to the Ministry of National Development, which also explained the situation, and a badly written eviction notice.

Yes, it sounds like a terrific deal — nice location, reasonable fittings and not too dodgy neighbours for a low price.

But, as the iffy landlord has shown, when something is too good to be true, it usually is.

Residents at a loss as to what to do. PHOTO: Samuel He

Read the full story in Tuesday's edition of The Straits Times.

And I say that with a deep sigh. When I joined Facebook about two years ago, I always felt it was supposed to be this whole free-wheeling, personal, democratic platform - can post anything, can say anything - to my own detriment of course.

Then everyone, the whole world it seems (except for China, Brazil and some others where different social networks have caught on) got onto Facebook and a brave new world was created.

People started posting literally everything about their lives - photos, videos, and updates about what they are doing every hour and companies started to sit up and take notice.

What are my employees bitching about us (the bosses) on Facebook? Are they freely posting photos of last night's wild office party? Or worse, company secrets? Is everyone reading it?

Then came company policies about not talking about your work online. If you're lucky, they will even let you access Facebook at work but from what I hear, quite a few companies have blocked it.

Last week, I met with a  web security firm who have started polling employees about how much time they spend on Facebook at work and how much moolah this is costing companies in terms of productivity.

But I digress.

Over the past few weeks, I learnt that the invisible Facebook OB markers have reached the Gen-Y NS recruits, who can't help but to update every aspect of their lives - including army life - online.

A few shrugged and said to me, "We're going to update anyway!". It is almost OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) I tell you.

To their credit, they ARE aware of military rules against posting too sensitive information on new media platforms, but seem to steadfastly think that whatever they are putting online is just fine.

IMO, I understand the need to discourage recruits forming online military groups - which countries like Israel is also doing. After all the Internet is a borderless world. Terrorists easily befriend hapless soldiers online and thereafter infiltrate military groups.

Facebook users really are a trusting lot, from polls that were conducted, they add everyone who requests to be their friend. Some people have 1,000 people on their list and don’t even know half of them.

But I'm wondering what's coming next, after companies and the country. My mum telling me to stop posting family pics on Facebook?

I was so desperate that, during those times they left the house, I would secretly hunt for the cable in their room and get connected, even if it was just for a precious twenty minutes.

This memory came to mind when over the past week, I interviewed psychologists and found out that many youths here might be addicted to the Internet. They said there has been a great leap in the number of parents who drag their supposedly Internet-addicted kids to the psychologist, as compared to five or six years ago. Some psychologists said many more cases might have gone un-noticed.

During the course of my conversations, psychologists told of horror stories of their patients, problems left to fester for longer than they should bcause parents are generally more un-savvy when it comes to matters of the Internet. So they picked up on the problem slower.

There was this teen who was what his classmates would call a 'loser', the psychologist said. He was overweight, had acne, had no friends and was bullied. He was in a dysfunctional family where only the mother worked and his father always shot verbal abuse at him. His only escape? The Internet, of course. In the end, he dropped out of school and even stopped eating at times.

Then there was another ironic case of a mother who took his son to the psychologist for addiction to World of Warcraft (WoW), and got hooked herself when she joined WOW to get closer to her son, the psychologist laughingly recounted.

But what is the definition of Internet addiction? I could tell that some were still grappling with its definition, even as China became the first country to term Internet addiction as a clinical disorder.

Dr Fung of IMH warns against an over-reaction though. "If the kid can play game for 10 hours and still do his homework, can you call it a disorder? of course these are the people who don't need to sleep, lah,"he quipped.

But now I understand why my parents had to keep me away, I was starting to fall into "the trap of the web", as Dr Winslow of the National University Hospital would say.

As another psychologist put it, get back into the real life, man.

The owner of one shop on the 5th floor, which sells games, was typical: “We can't stop them. As soon as one vacates, another similar type of tenant will move in.”

Referring to the mall’s Star Retailers' Programme, a bid by Sim Lim’s management to clean up its act by giving retailers who abide by fair trade practices a, well, star, he added: “It’s not much use. It’s not a rule, just a principle that shops are encouraged to uphold. Shops like these will just refuse to join the programme, that's all.

“Can't force them.”

Sim Lim's management tried to clean up the tarnished image
of the Rochor Roat IT mall after a series of raids by
launching a programme that highlights honest merchants.
ST PHOTO: Joyce Fan

Others are worried about what the mall’s dodgy reputation will mean for their bottom line.

The owner of one shop on the second floor said tussles over price and such are fairly regular.

“I’m definitely worried that it’ll tarnish my shop’s image since we're so near each other.”

That was followed, of course, by the “what to do” shrug.

“This kind of thing happens every day. But what can we do? I leave it to the management committee.”

Another retailer said it was time folks got with the programme and began serving customers well.

His rationale: The IRs and F1 race will mean more tourist arrivals than ever, and it’s time to think about cashing in on the business they will bring.

They can count out the business of at least one tourist, and the dozens of sympathisers he has online since he created a blog posting about how he was cheated and abused at Sim Lim.

The Filipino customer at the centre of the latest tussle, known only by his online moniker, “gerard mauro”, had this to say: “I can't imagine how much scamming happens in the place..I know there are still good shops there.

“But, in my case, at the risk of running into those guys again, I’ll never go back to that place again.”

His online supporters also gave some helpful hints on how to avoid trouble at Sim Lim:

1. Threaten to sue.

2. Do your research on prices before purchasing.

3. Try that other mall known for selling tech stuff. Hint: It’s not too far from Sim Lim.

Hard rock blasted from speakers in the hall, pumping out tunes from the likes of emo-rockers My Chemical Romance, Muse and other hair bands.

On a small stage at the front of the hall, two people did their best rock god imitations, hips thrusting, hair flying, fingers furiously strumming on... plastic guitars.

Welcome to the world of Guitar Hero III. Part video game, part adolescent rock star fantasy, and 100 per cent fun.

The game has taken the world by storm, and what a difference in made at the World Cyber Games yesterday.

The rock concert vibe at Suntec City was heightened by crowds swirling around two huge flat screens, cheering their Guitar Heroes.
In previous years, the scene at WCG was staid by comparison – all intense first-person shooters burning holes into computer screens and picking off baddies one by one.

There was Black Leather Jacket Guy, “shredding” (that’s rock-speak for ripping out guitar solos, all you pop fans out there). And Mohawk Guy, headbanging away. Even the occasional Avril Lavigne rocker chick-wannabe.

One thing most had in common? Real guitars are as useful to them as computers without mice.

As one gamer put it: “It’s so accessible, people who cannot play guitar in real life just play Guitar Hero III.”

Apart from the headbanging crowd, two other sights of note were spotted at WCG this year.

First, girl gamers. Absent at previous WCGs, they were at Suntec in some numbers, and were as adept at killing Counter Strike enemies as any male.

The other was Wilson “Tetra” Chia, who made the news earlier this year for beating up his manager during a game, landing himself a ban from the Championship Gaming Series.

One of the favourites, he managed to stay out of the limelight this time, quietly preparing to do battle... in Virtual Fighter 5.

Gamers rock on at the World Cyber Games
at Suntec City. ST PHOTO: Ashleigh Sim

Whether it says so on his name card is another thing. But Tan Chade Meng, who officially works in a human resources position* at the online giant after cutting his teeth at the engineering side, now considers himself an evangelist of "Googlelyness".

Ask him what it means, and he shoots back: "It’s about being 'Googley'."

Riiiighhht.

Press him further, and back comes the answer: "Thinking big, changing the world. Openness to new ideas, possibilities. Open to sharing information with each other. It's about being nice," said the 37-year-old, with obvious pride for the company that he watched grow up into a giant. (He joined the company from scratch eight years ago, just after graduating from NTU).

When he elaborates, you get the sense he's the perfect person for the job.  Google is, he says, "really the first corporate institution to develop humans, emotionally, spiritually and mentally".

What Google staff need is "emotional intelligence, to be equipped for in the tech jungle out there".

It's a point of pride, really, that a homegrown Singaporean is the brand ambassador for the world's biggest Internet company.

And yes, he will be doing it with a Singaporean accent. Eight years in America, and he hasn't lost the ability to say "lah".

* About that name card: Mr Tan's official namecard lists him as a "Jolly Good Fellow (Which Nobody Can Deny)". Don't ask.