Note: This post continues the travelogue I began a few weeks ago about the recent visit to Albania that my wife Mary Pat Treuthart and I made with our Spokane friends Ann and Matt. Click here to begin the series.

Year ago, when I was still in my teens, I read a lot of John Steinbeck. His short stories, his novels “East of Eden,” “Cannery Row,” “The Grapes of Wrath” (of course) – and, eventually, “Travels With Charley.”

That last one was particularly intriguing to me, the son of a U.S. Navy officer who had sat slumped in the back seat of our family station wagon as my father twice drove us across the entire country. And all before I was out of high school.

I thought of Steinbeck’s travelogue as I attempted to capture what it was like to travel through Albania, a country I knew barely anything about before arriving. And I bemoaned the fact that, not for the first time, I lacked the Nobel-Prize-winning Steinbeck’s skill with words.

That feeling washed over me  as I began to recall our arrival in the Albanian coastal town of Sarandē.

Beach towns are generally the same, particularly those located in areas warmed much of the year by the sun. That’s the way of the world even in such diverse places as South Africa and Bali, throughout Florida and all along the California coast. Sarandē, which sits on the extreme southern end of Albania’s coastline, is no different.

Having awakened on a Sunday morning in another Albanian beach town, Vlorē, we arrived in the early evening. And although our driver, Martin Mustafa, had a bit of trouble finding our hotel, he persevered in the face of what was new construction that seemed to be fouling traffic everywhere.

Our destination was Sarandē’s Da Luz Boutique Hotel, which for the most part lived up to its name. Not only did our rooms face the sea, but both featured hot tubs. Not that we had any time to savor them because Martin wanted us to see one of the area’s major sites: the Butrint National Archaeological Park.

Recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1992, the 23,000-plus-acre park dates back to the 7th century BCE when it was first populated by Greeks. Virgil’s “The Aeneid” even mentions the place. Later inhabitants included Romans, Byzantines, Venetians, and Ottomans, all of whom left signs of their respective cultures.

We spent the better part of an hour walking past stone foundations, temples and outdoor theaters, which gave us a feel for the place. And none of us could help but wonder what life had been like for the different people who, over the millennia, had settled there – what struggles they had experienced, what joys.

When we returned to the hotel, we decided to eat at the hotel. Exhausted from the day’s long travels, I neglected to note in my journal what we ordered. Instead, after returning to our room I quickly fell asleep – only to wake up early and experience a shock: Our bathroom had no hot water.

When I reported it to the cheerful couple who ran the hotel, they promised to fix things. The husband got to it while the wife did something that made me forget having to endure a cold shower: She served me the best breakfast that I’d eaten the whole trip, consisting of eggs and vegetable pie, accompanied by good coffee, home-made bread and pastries.

It proved to be the start of a good day, a feeling that I shared with a Scottish woman sitting alone at a nearby table. Tess, who told me she was a nurse from Glasgow, spoke in a thick accent that reminded me of the comedian Kevin Bridges (note: video NSFW). She’d just come from Corfu, the Greek island that we could see in the near distance, which she said was beautiful.

That pleased me no end because Corfu was our very next destination. As it turned out, though, we weren’t nearly through with Albania.

Shortly after breakfast, Martin returned to take us to see one of Albania’s most famous sites, a water feature called the “Blue Eye.” That’s what they call a body of water, which sits in the hills several miles outside Sarandē and is fed from water flowing out of a cave that’s some 50 meters deep.

As one tour guide explains it, “In the center of the pool, you can see the dark underwater cave. The black cave looks like the pupil of a human eye. Surrounding the pupil, there is the bright blue water, which looks like the iris of a human eye. Therefore, the spring was called Syri I Kalter in Albanian language, which means ‘the blue eye.’ ”

And it’s true, although it helps if you have an imagination. I was more intrigued with the crowds that had flocked to the place, particularly those who vied for the right view on a platform overlooking the pool. It wasn’t long, though, before I had joined them, pulling out my iPhone to take the obligatory selfie.

Because the site was protected, Martin was required to park at the base of the hill leading to the pool. Which forced us to march several hundred yards up that same hill, all under a blazing sun. Going down, we opted to take the tram that traveled back and forth, paying 300 lek (about 3$) per person.

The sunny weather explained why we had seen a number of people splashing downstream from the Blue Eye itself, oblivious to the many “no swimming” signs that were posted everywhere.

Which once again reminded me that, no matter where you go in the world, some people will always do what they want, regardless of the rules. Steinbeck might have written about such people.

He might even have published it under the title “Travels with Scofflaws.”

Next up: Gjirokaster and a goodbye to Albania.