Picnics are good.

"Their first stop was a surprise. Unbeknown to his family, Abuelaish had recently bought a small olive grove, about an acre in size. Separated from the urban sprawl by a 10ft-high fence, it was 'a utopia, a little piece of Shangri-La', The smaller ones, delighted to discover this new place, ran among the olive, fig and apricot trees, before finally settling down to eat their falafel sandwiches beneath a bower of vines. As they did so, the family talked. Abuelaish had been offered a job in Toronto, Canada, and he wanted to know how the children, who had never known anywhere other than Gaza, would feel about this. (Good, as it turned out. 'I want to fly, daddy,' said his daughter, Aya.) The family discussion over, they headed to the beach, where the children dashed over the dunes, chased the surf, and wrote their names in the sand. Abuelaish cherished their laughter, the way they mimicked and teased one another. For the first time in many days, his spirits lifted. 'We are getting there,' he remembers thinking. 'They will be okay. Together, we can do this.'

In Gaza, though, a man may take nothing for granted."

~ Rachel Cooke

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2011/jan/16/gaza-doctor-izzeldin-abuelaish-interview