Come 20th December, I will be 80,000 ft in the air, on my way to sunny, warm, bustling Hong Kong, yayyy!

When I was younger, we would do this trip every Christmas to visit my grandparents and other relatives and friends. We always stayed at my maternal granparents' house, in the small, idyllic village of Sheung Wo Hang near the borders of China. Words can't describe how beautiful it is, and what fond memories it holds for me. Pictures don't do it justice, but nevertheless, I shall try and paint you a picture.

The village lies in a low valley between several green mountains. When I'm there, in the mornings, I get up before sunrise so that I can sit outside in the morning dew and wait for the sun wake up, orange and pink, between the mountains. This time of morning is my favourite - the air is pure and clean, you can still hear crickets and all manner of birdsong, but it is peaceful and tranquil - the perfect place for reflection. Then the sun rises higher in the sky, and I can feel it's gentle touch warming my skin and the air around me - bliss. Hong Kong in winter is rather like early summer in Britain, and I love it.

In the afternoons, if we don't already have plans (in HK, this usually means two things - shopping or eating), me and my sister will go down to the village stream - occasionally there will be wrinkly old women washing clothes or vegetables in the water. The water here is clear and clean, having been filtered by the mountains as it runs down. The river is flanked by reeds, bamboo and trees, and prettily coloured dragon flies buzz around. We've spent many a happy afternoon playing here, paddling our feet in the water, catching crabs, shrimps, frogs, and feeding the little fish with breadcrumbs. It is a delicious way to pass the time.

When we tire of the stream, we go walkies in the village. Everyone in the village has a dog - they run free and are curious things. Small wild cats lounge in the sun, but if you get too close, they'll dart away. I love walking the path that follows the stream. You have to cover up here, for fear of being bitten by vicious mosquitoes, but it is worth it. Big purple and white flowers grow where there is water, the bugs hidden amongst the green urge you to admire their singing, and occasionally you'll see things growing that you never do back home - the odd banana, guava, papaya, starfruit and even chow-chows and lychees. I've always been a city girl, but this is my respite.

In the middle of the village are some odd-looking trees that have been here for centuries. They are strange in that they have gnarly, root-like strands growing from their branches - these grow down to the ground, and when they touch the soil, they lignify and eventually thicken to become branches in their own right. This gives it a waterfall-like effect. Behind these trees is a hidden path which leads to another part of the river - the water is deeper here - my mum, aunties and uncles used to come swimming here when they were younger. Beware of snakes though!

The old village school still stands - a very basic building, where all the children, my relatives included, went to school. It's now a museum, and tourists come to see it, and our village. I love that the village has so much history. I love knowing that my mum grew up here and seeing all the places she used to spend time in. I love knowing that this is the birthplace of my ancestors, that everyone here knows everybody else, and are descended from two brothers who settled here from China centuries back.

I love this place to pieces, and one day, I would love to bring my children here and show them where their grandma and great-grandparents grew up. I'd like to expose them to Chinese culture as much as possible, especially growing up abroad, with so many other cultural influences jostling for room. The problem is - I may not get to come here this year, or the next. My aunties and uncles want to put my grandmother into a nursing home, and if so, there will be no cause to come here - to what will be an empty, dusty house that's such a commute to the city. Without my grandma here, it just won't be the same.

Although putting my grandmother in a home makes me very sad, it is a whole other post, and I won't talk about it now. There are so many memories here. Hong Kong, the city, isn't enough to keep me wanting to come back year after year. The village is what I long for when I think of HK - of sunny, lazy days - not the shopping, not even the great food holds much appeal when this setting is missing. I feel like you do when you finish a good book. This chapter in my life has finally come to an end.