She turned to kiss her two sullen competitors who stood either side of her while a rowdy group of women yelled out "Camacho, Camacho" (which is a market in which I presume she works).

Sonia Quispe had just won the "Cholita del Oro" competition for the central district of La Paz. I half expected her to make a speech thanking her mum and saying how much she likes animals, but she merely swirled her skirts and her long-tasselled shawl in time to the chants of the the enthusiastic crowd.

Two days later, I sat in the sun listening to a near-perfect rendition of Stormy Weather. On stage was another woman, this time dressed in jeans, a trendy T-shirt and shades that I last saw in a magazine photo of Beckham wife "Posh."

Behind her a group of young musicians, all shielded in dark sunglasses blasted out "big band" style jazz. As her voice swooped to the end of the piece, the crowd on Bolivia's main high street whooped and cheered, calling out for an encore.

La Paz is a city that seems to thrive on culture. Almost every night, I can hear live music filtering up through my flat windows, the local guides are crammed full of events taking place in bars and squares across town, and every Sunday the main high street (the Prado) fills with music.

There is a great photo gallery on BBC website of a gay pride march in La Paz, that I sadly only found out about a few hours after it happened. The gallery features the Family Galan, a group of transvestites that I met during the Global Week of Action for Trade Justice.

No, I haven't got confused. Today is the Aymaran new year and winter solstice in Bolivia. (I am hoping to find an Aymaran birthday so I can celebrate that twice a year too). To mark it I got up inordinately early to head up to Tiwanaku, an ancient religious city dating back above 1500 years, situated 70 kilometres outside La Paz near Lake Titicaca.

As we arrived, it reminded me of Glastonbury festival without the rain and mud and about 25 degrees colder and with slightly more ponchos. In the shadowy pre-dawn, we joined hundreds of people streaming into the old temple. There was a buzz in the crowd, some fairly drunk Bolivians swaying next to a bonfire, someone playing a didgeridoo (see, just like Glastonbury) and little attention paid to the official speeches by various Aymaran dignatories and priests.

Then at last, fingers of sunlight crept above the horizon. Everyone held out their hands, to absorb the cosmic energy, although I doubt I absorbed much because my fingers were so numb.

But soon the light transformed the landscape spreading tentacles of warmth and colour. To celebrate, lots of Bolivians started Conga dancing to drums and pipes brandishing brilliantly rainbow coloured Wiphala flags. I can understand why Aymaran cultures worshipped the sun in this climate. Without it, the altiplano would be desperate, icy and desolate. But sun here brings life and colour to a beautiful but inhospitable environment.

After a tour around the site, we had a small ceremony presided over by an Aymaran priest where we burnt offerings of coca leaves, sweets and an attractive-looking llama foetus (photo included in the gallery) to pray for a happy and prosperous new year.

Happy new year!

To be honest it was also a dimension of Bolivian life I wasn't expecting to find in the capital of La Paz.  But last night, I found myself at a small packed theatre with several men tottering in unbelievably high platform shoes, silky dresses and fabulous make-up taking the star roles in a cultural night against TLC/ALCA (US-backed free trade agreements).

I chatted to Paris, the compere of the show afterwards, and found out that they are quite a famous Bolivian group called Familia Galan, who are involved in a political and cultural struggle for sexual diversity. "We would love to have a London member of the family," said Paris as he fluttered his amazing eyelashes. I tried to keep my response polite but suitably vague.

The theatre night has been part of an amazing series of cultural events against "free trade" agreements like TLC as part of the Global Week of Action for Trade Justice. In La Paz, there have been three cultural happenings in the streets, a mural competition called Walls that Speak, and there is going to be a concert tonight and a cultural fair sealing off the La Paz's main high street tomorrow.

Across the country, there have been more cultural events as well as marches against "free trade" in El Alto, Sucre, Tarija, Cochabamba and Santa Cruz.  Having helped organise similar events in the UK, I have been boggled by the logistics of organising it all, especially as the main organisers always seem to  look relaxed (and I can see no signs of them chewing coca leaves).

The cultural happenings in the square of Plaza de los Heroes in the heart of La Paz, in particular, have been a great opportunity for me to see some of the vibrant culture here and the interaction with the crowd.

Each "happening" involved a mixture of music, theatre, stories and dancing. Some of it was strangely familiar. There is a dance here that is very similar to morris dancing in which men and women carry lots of ribbons and wave handkerchiefs and even on occasion circle a maypole. But unlike the UK, it doesn't receive sniggers and is clearly not the butt of national jokes.

There also seems to a be a great tradition of story-telling here, often allegories to exploitation of Bolivia by rich countries like the US. Again, the crowd would go silent in the midst of the beeps of car-horns and rush of traffic to listen attently to the stories.

So why does culture play such an important part in politics of resistance here? Initially, I thought it was because Fundacion Solon (a political and cultural organisation who I plan to volunteer for) was one of the main co-ordinators of the week of action. That's certainly partly true, but the sheer number of groups involved using cultural expression across the country, the overwhelming response to the art exhibition, and the spirit of the events suggested something more.

During a 2 day seminar on "Free trade and the new constitution" in La Paz, it became clear. The seminar was attended by 400 delegates - representatives of campesino (rural farmers) networks, small producers, artisans, students, unions, women's organisations - from all over the country. Some of them were dressed distinctly in indigenous clothes from their region, some had mouths bulging with chewed coca leaves. And the discussion  was often focused on indigenous rights and defending a way of life from an imposed system of trade that will open up market to rich companies from the North.

It became clear to me that resistance against "free trade" is not just an economic fight, a struggle to protect small businesses and producers from an unfair competition. It is also a cultural battle against an increasingly globalised and homogenised largely-US culture of individualism, consumption and ownership.  The TLC (trade agreement with the US) threatens that as it will allow free access to US companies, with their cultural assumptions backed by huge capital.  A vision based on turning Bolivia's amazing streets where small-scale street-sellers are everywhere to one dominated by the predictable big international firms (Starbucks, McDonalds, etc) that you see in every Western capital.

Yet the delegate introduced the group's feedback, saying that their whole discussion was based on an understanding that "Pachamama (deity of the earth) is our mother, the mother of our earth and environment, the mother of campesinos and indigenous people. We live because of her and therefore all her fruits are hers. By referring to earth, we are talking about life."

How do you reconcile that cosmo-vision with capitalism, or more specifically with a trade agreement that turns Bolivia's environment into economic assets to be negotiated on?

In the words of Walter Chavez, a well-known Bolivian journalist: "Neo-liberalism is not just an economic model. It is also a cultural matrix which rejects community values, indigenous traditions, which promotes individualism and an American way of life." Which means that Bolivians are not just fighting against further impoverishment but about maintaining a rich culture and tradition.

When free trade threatens Bolivia's very culture, it is not surprising that cultural expression - yes, even including morris dancing - is at the forefront of resistance.