“LISTEN to your inner voice. Let's make meaning of your life,” said the low, soft voice from over my right shoulder. I was lying on a couch, confessing my deepest secrets to Laura Mansour, which was odd because we'd known each other for only five minutes.

There was so much to say. I'd just turned 40 - prime midlife crisis territory. My partner had just got a big promotion and her career was overshadowing mine. And the last time I appeared in the Travel section of The Times I was wearing women's clothing. I'd never considered visiting a shrink before. Yet here I was, flat on my back, eyes to the ceiling. How did I get here? Blame Buenos Aires and blame Juliana Pedros.

I met the 28-year-old law student on my first night in the Argentine capital in Sigi, a whitewashed stucco bar. I'd thought nothing of the name as I pulled up a chair and ordered a giant bisteka rib and a glass of malbec but Pedros explained that the bar was named after Sigmund Freud.

“This is the psychoanalysis capital of the world. There are more head doctors here than anywhere,” she said. “If you do not have a shrink, people think you are in denial. Even the therapists have therapists. You should try it.” Well, when in Buenos Aires. But where to find il shrinko?

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The bohemian district of the city, Palermo, has so many psychologists that it is nicknamed Villa Freud. So, the next morning I headed for a bookstore on Via Salguero. The self-help section, next to tango, was full of local magazines that listed approved practitioners. I immediately saw one reason why everyone was in therapy. It's so cheap. A two-hour session costs £10 - less than a glass of champagne in most bars in Britain and guaranteed to leave you feeling much, much more light-headed.

I picked Mansour's name from Actualidad Psicológica - Psychology Today. The 56-year-old has been a psychologist for 30 years. She appears on local television shows and writes for the popular newspaper, Clarín. I decided to start with a little psycho small talk. Is it true, I asked, that Argentinians are such - what's the correct term? - n-u-t-t-e-r-s that there are more shrinks in Buenos Aires than even New York?

“Yes. I see a psychologist myself to help me overcome my relationship addiction.”

Great, I thought, she's a few steaks short of a gaucho grill herself, but I pressed on. What is it about Argentinians, I asked, that every five minutes they are overcome with a desire to lie down and discuss the infantile libido?

“Just look at our history - war, immigration, dictatorship, economic collapse,” Mansour said. “There are so many things that are so hard to explain. But we're not here to talk about us,” she said.

For the next two hours I listened to my inner voice and it told a story of love, fear, exhaustion, joy, anxiety, stress and fulfilment. “And the women's clothing?” she asked. Oh, that was a sulu, a skirt worn by men in Fiji, and the Times Travel editor made me do it. Honest.

Mansour listened and made notes and when I had finished gave her verdict. “You are in a heightened state of alert. It's a condition we can measure and yours is very high. It's leaving you exhausted, prone to la bronca (anger) and unable to reach joy.”

What did she recommend?

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