Old men puffed frostily, and baby-laden women walked beside them with chattering teeth. It was not yet dawn, and chilly, but on the mountain paths leading to Sanare. 4,400 ft. up in the western Venezuelan Andes, and on the rutty road leading to Sanare from the "outside." everyone was elated. Hardly a young man among the 5.000 travelers was not carrying a guitar, a violin or a pair of maracas (seed-filled gourds). Making up words as they went along, they sang:
We're going to see the tractor, The marvelous tractor of Sanare!
Reaching Sanare, the throng poured into the sports stadium....
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