It was just another week in Israel.

 

** A revolutionary sniff-sensing device just created at Israel's Weizmann Institute enables quadriplegics to write, surf the Internet and steer their wheelchairs. The sensor identifies changes in air pressure inside a person's nostrils and translates these into electrical signals.

 

** Local council leaders from the northern Israeli towns of Dir Al-Asad, Karmiel, Majad Al-Krum and Misgav have joined together to tackle health and environmental issues facing Christians, Druze, Muslims, Baha'is and Jews.

 

** The Israeli tidal wave energy firm SDE installed its first large-scale sea wave power plant in Jaffo - a plant that has the highest efficiency for such installations in the world.

 

** Two Israeli companies - Medigus and Tower Semiconductor - announced the production of the world's smallest medical video camera, 700 by 700 microns.

 

** It was reported that 1.6 million tourists visited Israel in the first six months of 2010, 260,000 in the month of June alone.

 

 

An important Israeli cultural point:

 

Four guys are standing on a street corner ... an American, a Russian, a Chinese man and an Israeli. A news reporter says to them: 'Excuse me ... What's your opinion on the meat shortage?'

 

The American says: 'What's a shortage?'

 

The Russian says: 'What's meat?'

 

The Chinese man says: 'What's an opinion?'

 

The Israeli says: 'What's excuse me?'

 

Israelis love to tell jokes - especially those that make fun of themselves. Maybe it's part of what makes Israel the eighth happiest country in the world according to a just-released Gallup Poll of citizens in 155 countries.

 

So today I'll tell you a few jokes that may help you understand Israel and Israelis.

 

On the way to Jerusalem: We get up this morning to go to Jerusalem. Because Israeli public transportation is remarkably convenient and efficient, we decide to take the bus.

 

A two-minute walk gets us to our bus stop (every Ashdod neighborhood has numerous bus stops). The 7:53 bus arrives at 7:53. We hop on, pay our 3.90 shekels ($1) to the grumpy bus driver, and arrive at the main bus station upstairs in Ashdod's 'City' Mall 10 minutes later.

 

What's the difference between God and an Israeli security guard? God doesn't think he's an Israeli security guard.

 

The line is already long at the security checkpoint to enter the mall. Every mall, supermarket and large store in Israel has a security checkpoint that each person has to go through. We wait for about 15 minutes, then a security guard thoroughly checks our backpacks and my wife's purse, and waves a gun- and bomb-sensitive wand over us. Then we walk through a metal detector and head upstairs to buy tickets.

 

But first, breakfast at the lush bakery stand with its infinite variety of cheese, cascavelle, feta, filo, spinach, potato and mushroom barekhas; sweet pastries of vanilla, chocolate, cinnamon, honey and rogelach; baguettes, pizza bagels, baklava, cookies, fruit cake -

 

Ten minutes and 17 shekels ($4.40) later, punctual to the minute, we are on the Egged express bus to Jerusalem. A legend in Israel, Egged (the Egged Israel Transport Cooperative Society) carries 1 million passengers daily - one out of every seven Israelis.

 

A bus is going from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, nearly full with very religious Chasidim. At the last stop a pretty young girl in a skimpy outfit boards the bus. She has to sit next to a Chasid. He squirms a while, then reaches into his backpack and hands her an apple.

 

'What's this?' she inquires.

 

'An apple.'

 

'Why did you give me an apple?' she persists.

 

'Because until Eve ate the apple, she didn't realize she was naked!'

 

The next morning, she again boards the same bus making the same run to Jerusalem. She is more modestly attired, and sits next to the same Chasid. She hands him an apple.

 

'What's this?' he asks suspiciously.

 

'An apple,' she quietly responds.

 

'Why an apple?' he inquires.

 

'Because until Adam ate the apple, he didn't know he had to work for a living.'

 

Our Jerusalem Express is crowded with the usual clash of religious men dressed in black hats, white shirts and black trousers; religious women donning wigs, long-sleeved shirts and long dresses; secular Israelis dressed in every fashion imaginable; and young uniformed male and female soldiers with M16s heading for their bases.

 

We pass the massive Ashdod power plant; corn, cotton, pumpkin and sunflower fields; and the fort of Latrun, and enter the Tel-Aviv Jerusalem highway. The next 25 miles was one of the most bitterly contested areas during Israel's war for independence as volunteers in makeshift vehicles braved a gauntlet of rifle and machine gun fire to supply the beleaguered citizens of Jerusalem. The burned-out shells of vehicles left beside the road for the past 60 years are memorials to those who died in the attempt.

 

An orthodox rabbi dies and goes to heaven. As he's approaching the gates, he hears a band of singing and dancing angels approach, and begins to get excited. The lead angel approaches the rabbi and asks him to step aside for a moment. Shocked, the rabbi does so.

 

The angels march out of the gates and encircle a man who also has approached the gates. The man is an Egged bus driver. The joyous angels carry the bus driver in ahead of the rabbi. When the parade is gone, an angel returns to the rabbi and says, 'You can come in now.'

 

The rabbi, somewhat confused, says, 'I'm not one to complain, but I need to know something. I think I've been a good, hard-working rabbi. Why is it that the Egged bus driver gets led in by a band of angels ahead of me?' The angel says, 'Well, frankly, rabbi, whenever you preached, people slept. But whenever he drove, people prayed.'

 

Then we start the tortuous segment that leads directly into mountaintop Jerusalem, alternately struggling up the long, winding highway, then careening breathtakingly down the sharply curving stretch to Abu Ghosh (best hummus in Israel), then puffing back up the hill past the huge communities of Mevaserret Zion, Maale Adumim and Pisgat Zeev that adorn the hilltops around Jerusalem. Despite terrible traffic, the 55-mile trip takes 45 minutes.

 

Arrival in Jerusalem: We arrive at the large Jerusalem bus station/mall and disembark. Another line for another security checkpoint. Only about 10 minutes of waiting this time, but I forget to take my cell phone out of my pocket and set the metal detector off. Through the bus mall and outside to grab a taxi, my wife negotiating the price down from 50 to 30 shekels.

 

Of course, all the negotiations are in Hebrew with our driver Mohammed, a stylish young Israeli Arab from eastern Jerusalem, eager to talk and turn on the air- conditioner in his 2010 Mercedes 320 (it's already 36C outside). As we wind our way slowly through the labyrinthine streets of Jerusalem past the prime minister's residence and the American consulate, he tells of his brother and sister studying at Tel Aviv University and Georgia Tech, respectively.

 

Finally, we enter the Jaffa gate and skirt the edge of the old city - through the Muslim and Armenian quarters - until ultimately stopping at the Jewish quarter as a joyous procession of Karaites celebrating a bar mitzvah passes (more about this in my next column).

 

A few final thoughts: So what is it that makes Israelis so happy? In my last column, I talked about how we Israelites/Judeans/Jews/Israelis have persisted in this land for 3,300 years. Every birth, birthday, bar mitzvah, bat mitzvah and wedding intensifies the connection to family, friends and society and joyously affirms the continuation of life. Shalom from Israel!

 

- George Rooks of Davis is retired from UC Davis and is spending several months at his home in Israel. He's sharing monthly letters with Enterprise readers.