By Feride Istogu Gillesberg
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The lagoon is a rare ecosystem in the Mediterranean. Its shallow, salty waters provide shelter for pink flamingos, which find a stable and protected habitat here. Every year, hundreds of migratory birds pass through this stretch of coastline, stopping in the wetlands surrounding Narta and Pishë-Poro. It is a landscape that belongs to the country’s collective memory: a place that represents not only nature, but also identity.
The Narta–Zvërnec Lagoon is not an environment particularly suited to human habitation. Its salty waters, humid heat, mosquitoes, and the very nature of the terrain have always made a permanent human presence difficult. It is a magnificent place to visit, but a challenging one to inhabit. Even if a luxury resort were built there, the lagoon’s natural conditions would remain the same: a hot, humid, salty environment where mosquitoes are an inseparable part of the ecosystem. It is beautiful to admire, but it is not a place where most people would choose to spend their holidays. It is precisely these conditions, which make the area less comfortable for us, that have allowed wildlife to thrive. Pink flamingos and migratory birds have transformed this landscape, which may seem inhospitable to humans, into an ideal refuge for themselves.
The lagoon is part of a broader ecological system that also includes Sazan Island and the surrounding marine area, which forms part of the Karaburun–Sazan Marine National Park. The waters surrounding the island and those feeding the lagoon are connected through a natural continuity that makes the entire area part of an interconnected environmental system. Protecting one area cannot be separated from protecting the other: what happens in the lagoon affects the sea, and what happens in the sea affects the lagoon.
Sazan, which has remained largely untouched for centuries, is a natural laboratory of the Mediterranean. Its characteristics as a karstic island without freshwater have hindered the development of permanent settlements, helping preserve a rare ecological balance. The abandoned military structures on the island could be repurposed as research centers, climate monitoring stations, and scientific laboratories without consuming additional land. It is a place that could complement the lagoon’s role by integrating environmental monitoring, scientific study, and conservation.
The Narta–Zvërnec Lagoon, by contrast, is a living, inhabited, and fragile environment. It is a treasure that belongs not only to local communities, but also to all of us who, despite living far away, continue to feel part of Albania. For this reason, any transformation of the area affects us. Every intervention that changes the lagoon must take into account its natural character, its ecological function, its connection with the marine environment, and the value it represents for the country.
Many of us in the diaspora are concerned about the possibility of profound changes to this place. Not because we oppose development, but because we believe there are ways to appreciate and develop the area while respecting its environmental fragility and history. The lagoon could become a research center, a place for environmental education, a bird migration observation site, and an example of conservation that strengthens Albania’s image across the Mediterranean.
I am writing from afar, but with the same concern as those who live near the lagoon every day. I am writing because I believe the voice of the diaspora must be heard: we are millions, scattered around the world, yet connected by a thread that cannot be broken. The Narta–Zvërnec Lagoon is part of that thread. It is a place that cannot be sacrificed without reflecting on the value, uniqueness, and future it represents.
This is a call to see the lagoon not as an area to be transformed, but as a treasure to be preserved. A place that belongs to all of us, both inside and outside Albania.