Hong Kong is heaven for shoppers, especially after Christmas. Although I am not a shopaholic, I could not resist the temptation of the big sales and decided to treat myself.

My husband and I arrived in the city on New Year's Eve.

While we were waiting at the hotel's reception to check in, we realized we had just missed the first buying spree. Nearby, there was a long line of people carrying various stuffed suitcases, some so big they defy description.

Accordingly, we immediately made up our minds that the first thing we needed was an enormous bag, big enough to fit an elephant.

Strolling through downtown Hong Kong was more like wandering around Wangfujing Road in Beijing, as my ears picked up various Chinese dialects, including Shanghai's, Hangzhou's and Shandong's.

The jewelry business was booming. Most jewelry shops we visited were packed with mainland customers, many of them with their noses glued to the display glass, especially at the diamond counters. I had a real problem even getting a peep of what was on offer, as nobody wanted to make room for me. Some even gave me an odd look, as if I was intruding on their turf.

So, we gave up the idea of buying rings. Our next stop was Harbor City, one of the most famous shopping malls in Hong Kong.

It was a sea of faces, not a harbor at all. The sight of people happily spending would have cheered the spirits of any investment banker with a stake in the city's fortunes.

I felt sorry for all those men waiting anxiously outside shops, surrounded by mountains of bags. Their eyes tried hard to trace their partners who had already disappeared in the sea of people.

"You need a life ring before you jump in the shop," my husband joked.

Shopping with these enthusiastic customers was such an eye-opening experience.

In one sportswear shop, a woman in her 50s carried a huge Louis Vuitton handbag, pointed at several pairs of trainers the moment she spotted them and yelled out: "I want this, that and that - wrap them for me please."

I was so relieved she didn't point at the poor shop assistant. "They are not shopping. They are more like robbing," a man next to me sighed.

Influenced by the shopaholics, we both agreed we should buy something, or we'd have felt guilty.

From then on, and until the day came to pack our luggage, we shopped as if in a trance. I had no idea why I'd bought two bags, three pairs of shoes and four make-up sets. I certainly didn't need them all.

On my flight back to Beijing, I could barely sleep for worry about having a heart attack at the bills I had piled up.

Suddenly, the girl next to me called the air hostess over.

"I have read the duty-free book. I would like to buy some perfume," she said cheerfully.

My husband was right - some visitors to Hong Kong feel compelled to shop until the very last minute.

Suddenly, I didn't feel so bad after all.