I was tickled when a friend told me how she'd spend whole Saturdays exploring Orchard Road and never stop for lunch.

She'd hold a burger in one hand at midday and just keep walking.

In her early 20s, she had just started work and was free to spend as she pleased in those days.

More than that, shopping inspired and filled her with new ideas. It made her feel creative, she told me.

Creative? I'd not quite viewed merchandise in that glowing light before.

Then I remembered the day a young friend invited me for an afternoon of shopping when I was still living in the United States.

Now, I'd imagined that a mall crawl was too sedately American for Gaby, an adventurous spirit.

For she loved squeezing four or five experiences into each Saturday. This might involve a trial bellydancing lesson or a Parisian pastry class. Once, it was salsa and square-dancing in an old amusement park with strangers, who turned into Facebook friends the next day.

Her curiosity would be piqued by a Jewish book festival, Shakespeare under the stars, new monuments, Caribbean corners, whatever was different. After one big day, she hosted a potluck to savour the world's desserts made by her global friends.

Gaby truly lived out the sweet lament of the life-loving lot: 'So much to do, so little time.'

But in or out of a mall, she was unwavering in her love of discovery as I soon learnt. In the mall, she pointed out bright ideas like the Build-A-Bear Workshop. That was a while before it came to Singapore.

That day, we watched in delight as kids chose and stuffed their furry friends. Little hands warmed the tiny teddy hearts before lovingly hiding them in the toys. They hugged their new playthings.

Isn't it creative to rethink the experience of buying a teddy bear?

Recently, I felt like I was on a minijourney again when I popped into the Hokkaido Fair in Isetan. It was fun to see mounds of pristine Hokkaido cheese, piquant candy that promised health benefits and luscious seafood in exotic marinades.

That prompted me to Google Hokkaido food and I enjoyed a few minutes learning about sea-urchin-gathering tours. The foragers search for unni along a shore designated a World Heritage site for its natural beauty. When they spy unni among the rocks, the shells are split open and the fresh creamy roe eaten on the spot.

The other day, I stepped into a new Chocolate Research Facility in Wheelock Place. The store retails imaginative flavours. Longan and pumpkin seeds choc, anyone? The confections sit in gorgeously designed boxes that are displayed like art behind glass.

Googling again, I found a description of the chocolates on the PSFK website, which highlights trends and innovations. Also on its list of good ideas were an ice-cream truck orchestra and hyper local news.

I guess that's why shopping inspired my friend: It is one door to new vistas.

So shopping is more than buying stuff. We pursue it for fun and recreation. For those who study the world of retail, recreational shopper identity is a facet of the self-concept.

If that's so, an ACNielsen global survey shows that we love amusing ourselves. The 2006 poll found that one in four consumers worldwide shops for 'entertainment' once a month. This figure is spiked dramatically in Asia, where one in four shops to amuse himself every week.

Hongkongers, Thais and Singaporeans rank highest for shopping twice a week for entertainment.

If we shop so much as a country, what does it reveal about us?

That we live on instant gratification - or we are alive to ideas?

That policymakers have cleverly used our penchant for pleasure to remake Singapore into a shopping paradise among the nations?

That the complaint of the past - that there's nothing to do in Singapore - still rings true?

I believe the era when there was not much to do except shopping and eating is over. These habits, however, may be encrypted in our national DNA by now.

Still, it's really not as deterministic as that. We can own things. They do not have to own us.

There are so many signs that we're more than shiny new shops. Singapore is being filled every moment with gardens and parks. This is a feat when we have so little land. Naturalists in the past marvelled that we live on a bio-diverse equatorial gem. We're returning to that.

We abound now with arts events. We're livelier than ever, whether it's the museums or heartlands. We have choices. We delve into books in solitude or create our own outdoor life. Friends and families experiment in the kitchen and host dinners.

Even my friend now spends very little time in Orchard Road. She shops at a fraction of her previous pace and she stops for lunch. Her life is rich in friends, fun and community work. She feels more creative than ever.

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This article was first published in The Straits Times.