A dull and chilly November day is drawing to a close, and I know that just a few rays of warm sunshine would do wonders to brighten my mood. However, the meteorologists are predicting more of the same grey, foggy weather over the next couple of days, so after work, I steer my car in the direction of the ‘Caribbean Sun’, my local tanning salon. Here, I hope to grab a few minutes of warming and heartening sunshine – even if it is artificial.

A bronzed beauty in a skimpy bikini smiles at me from the glossy poster where she leans against a palm tree. The slogan on the poster reads, ‘A healthy suntan adds the finishing touches to any outfit’, and in the bottom right-hand corner, I read the name of the manufacturer of the solarium equipment. I take out my wallet and approach the metal change machine. I would much rather get my change from a friendly, smiling member of the solarium staff, but it’s self-service here. Blast! All I’ve got in my wallet is a 20-euro note, which means that as I had planned to buy 16 minutes of tanning time, I’m going to have 11 spare coins stretching my small wallet to its limits and bulging in the back pocket of my trousers!

My sunbed is occupied at the moment, so I sit down on an uncomfortable bistro chair and pick up the Caribbean’s brochures on healthy tanning. I can hear the typical noise of the automatic lid opener and the humming of the fan intended to extract the thick, hot air from the room. A few minutes later, a boiled lobster comes out of the cubicle. His hair has seen better days and his scalp shines bright pink through his thinning locks. ‘Piglet,’ I think, as I notice the dried droplets of sweat on the plexiglas screen. With disinfectant, I remove all traces of my predecessor from the ‘poolside lounger’. Barefoot, I walk backwards and forwards across the linoleum flooring, insert my coins in the slot of the machine and stretch my lily-white body out on the sun bed, which begins to groan and creak under my weight.

There is a clicking sound, and the fluorescent tubes above and below me start to glow brightly. Instead of something more suitable like ‘Welcome to the Hotel California’, I hear a mournful ballad by a German Liedermacher from the loudspeakers behind my head. Far from lightening my mood, this song with its romantic, mournful text always brings me down. It’s getting hot sandwiched in the sunlounger, and the skin on my face is starting to feel tight. Sweat pools beneath my shoulder blades. My elbows hurt and the tight rubber of the protective goggles presses painfully against my eyeballs. What on earth are you doing here?

Pling! The lights go out and the lid raises automatically – I’m free at last, and I stand up to admire my bronzed body in the mirror. With my tinted glasses, I look like an oversized housefly, and even without them, I can’t see any difference in my appearance. Caribbean Sun – yeah, good joke! What does this little solarium have in common with the Caribbean? Nothing – nichts – nada – niente!

At home, I take a shower. There’s nothing worse than the smell of your skin after a visit to the solarium. I look at my back in the mirror and see the two white patches on my shoulder blades and the big, oval white patch on my backside. When I turn around, I see the egg-sized pale patches around my eyes. I suddenly realize that I look like a spectacled bear from the front – and a giant panda from the back!

Amazingly good!

In Munich, I discovered a solarium that really does conjure up a little Caribbean flair. There is a refreshments bar there, and every sun bed is equipped with a CD player. Customers can either choose one of the wide range of CDs available or even bring their own favourite CD from home. I made another interesting discovery in the United States. I found a solarium with real sand and beautiful pictures of exotic beaches from all over the world. For visitors with children, there is even a cubicle with a play corner including sand moulds, etc.