The number of stories that Jeni had from the mental hospital are … insane. She could write a book about it. I’ll tell you one of them, of a Norwegian patient that we can call
The number of stories that Jeni had from the mental hospital are … insane. She could write a book about it. I’ll tell you one of them, of a Norwegian patient that we can call Knutsen. He has another name, as written on the cigarette pack above (under the lighter), a cigarette pack that Jeni had taken as a souvenir from the story. Knutsen came to Argentina to visit his child. The problem is that both Knutsen and his child were alcoholics, they fought, and Knutsen ended up on the street. Somehow he came to the mental hospital. Besides the alcoholism, he was also depressed. The problem is that he didn’t understood that his visit at the hospital was 100% voluntary, and that he could say goodbye and walk back and go to Norway in any second that he felt like. So he tried to flee out from there, and climbed a high wall when no one was looking, fell down on the other side and broke his leg. The mental hospital staff called his insurance company, they sent an ambulance, and he got himself a new hospital to look for his broken leg.
In the evening, we arrive at Bahía Blanca. The staff were talking for so long that it felt like a longer stay. I went to the toilet, and then got some water, and then went back to the … empty place where the bus had been. For about 37 seconds I stood there and wondered what to do with my luggage on its way south, and me here in Bahía Blanca in the middle of the night. But there was a guy there who spoke English, so I asked him. He said that the bus was away for some reason, and would be back to pick us up in an hour. So: relax. Just relax. Everything is going by plan. He came from Scotland, and we talked for a while. He turned out to sit next to me on the bus.
