Roberto Helou 𓀙

I took a photo everyday for the past 16 months while cycling across Africa from Cairo (Egypt) to Cape Town (South Africa) 🌍🚴🏼‍♂️📸 My friends shaved my head the evening of my departure, and I've left all facial hair grow, without cutting hair or beard since. I went through so many ups and downs, figuratively and literally, but overall, Project Africa sure made up the best months of my life. I don't even know how to start processing all of it. I've experienced lifetimes worth of memories within a mere year and a half. This video is a visual evolution of who I have become. 482 days of deep change, externally and internally. Throughout the journey across the continent, my head went from resembling an egg to an untamed mane accompanied by an equally unruly beard. It sure did fit the raw adventure look. I got called "Jesus", "General Aladeen", "terrorist", "Simba", "homeless guy", "Forrest Gump", "hobo", "hairy monkey", "lion man"... I got daily messages criticizing my look, mocking it, telling me to shave. I was expecting this. And I found it hilarious. But I wasn't going to fold until I completed my expedition. I had made a promise to myself. Not shaving was accepting what I look like at my rawest, accepting who I am at my most authentic and real self. It was also a clear reminder that I can't grow a mustache :) Peoject Africa was about going out of my comfort zone in all aspects, including my appearance, and through that, to retain my confidence within the unsual and the challenging. It was all about trying something new. Something different. Something uncomfortable. It was a direct reflection of some of my core intentions for the whole journey. This video stitches together miniscule moments of change to show how, when they are all put together, the meaning of the experience really becomes visible. Each photo captured a unique singular moment of the journey. I'm interested in knowing what catches your eye while watching! Inspired by @christophrehage #projectafrica

Project Africa was about living the adventure, sharing the stories, and creating a good impact 🚴🏼‍♂️🎥🌍 But above all, it was about seeking truth and understanding this mysterious side of the world that I only knew through mainstream media. Witnessing the continent with my own eyes and ears taught me invaluable life lessons I will sharing in many of the future YouTube videos. Fear is the lack of knowledge. That's why bridging humanity together and towards the natural world lies in communicating about that knowledge and raising awareness. I try to do that through videos, and it's simply the best job I could've wished for. That's why if I could travel back in time 8 years ago, I could confidently say to my younger self that I found my purpose (at least for this phase of my life). It's incredibly fulfilling to be aligned with your beliefs and act upon them. I can't even describe it and I'm so privileged to have been able to make this dream happen. We do get the most out of life when we keep exploring with curiosity and an open-mind, and become comfortable doing hard things. This attitude helps us finding purpose with time and ultimately contribute to this beautiful world ! #projectafrica

My dear friend Kārlis Bardelis passed away earlier this week at only 40. Yes, everyone dies, but not everyone lives. And he lived, fully, like no one I ever met. Some know him for his unbelievable human powered circumnavigation of the globe, but behind the accomplishments was someone even more extraordinary. He was the kind of person you meet once in a lifetime. He lived by values, not just slogans. Plant based without making it his identity, seeker of meaning in every discomfort, he chased excellence, pushed limits, and taught me to dream even bigger. He was wise, mentally unbreakable, positive, supportive, humble, hilarious, and a true friend. When Israel bombed Lebanon last year, he was the first to write, offering to host me and my family in his home country of Latvia. Every grand goal he tackled started with simplicity and curiosity. His eight year circumnavigation began the day he googled “how to row the Atlantic”. He stayed an amateur at heart because he believed it was the purest way to learn. He was a purist in everything. When Joe Rogan and Rich Roll invited him on their podcasts, he agreed only if he could reach them by rowing then cycling. FROM LATVIA. This was the type of guy Karlis was. Life eventually gave him his hardest battle. After 8 months of pain, he passed away from glioblastoma, one of the worst cancers, and still carried a smile throughout. Karlis never received the recognition he deserved outside Latvia because he never chased glory. In a world where athletes are fueled by ego, he was fueled by the love of game, mentally and physically reaching far beyond comprehension. Yet he made his lessons relatable to anyone facing their own struggles. He was bored of borders and made it his main message. Borders limit us, but he saw beyond them. He believed in humanity as a whole and in the potential inside each of us. The image I always want to remember of him is us listening to “Free Bird” while cycling at 45 km/h with the wind in the Namibian deserts, howling our lungs out, with his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and free spirit. A mentor, a friend, a brother. Rest in peace to a legend whose ripple effect lives on 🕊️ 🚣🏼 🌊 🚴🏻‍♂️🤍

What happens when you leave everything behind and cycle across Africa alone? Roberto Helou (@explorob ) isn’t just an adventurer. He’s someone who questioned the system, rejected the script, and chose a different path. From failing school to hunting with tribes in Tanzania, this episode is about discomfort, identity, and what it really means to feel alive. Now live on @thebeyondtomorrowpodcast . Search “Beyond Tomorrow Julian Issa” on any platform. Comment “Beyond” and I’ll DM you the full episode. Or hit the link in bio. #RobertoHelou #BeyondTomorrow #ModernEducation #BreakTheScript #AfricaByBike #HadzabeTribe #RebelMindset #SelfDiscovery #LifeOffGrid #PurposeDriven #PodcastClip #HumanConnection

I took these two photos of the same Skoda Fabia, parked in the exact same spot, exactly 1,000 days apart, in Old Damascus, Syria. The first, from May 2022, shows a rear windshield sticker of ex-Syrian President Bashar Al-Assad and Russian President Vladimir Putin, with the word “سوا”—“Together.” Russia, a key regime backer, funded Syria’s war machine, fueling one of the worst humanitarian catastrophes ever recorded: 13 million displaced and an estimated 700,000 dead. The second, from February 2025, tells a different story: the new Syrian flag post-revolution, the Hawk of Quraish, and the words “سوريا حر”—“A Free Syria.” When I passed by the car again, I recognized it instantly. That old image of dictators plastered on glass had stuck with me. But what hit me harder was the transformation. Why did this person once feel compelled to display Assad and Putin, only to later embrace the symbols of a new Syria? Why not leave the car bare from the start? Then I remembered. After two and a half months in Syria this year, speaking with hundreds of Syrians from all walks of life, I kept hearing the same phrase: ‎“بس بدنا نعيش، يا خيّي” — “We just want to live, brother.” Years of war, fear, and displacement have reduced basic needs to one thing: safety. Across Syria and the region, there’s a numb acceptance of whoever holds power, as long as life goes on. In Latakia, a man from the persecuted Alawite community told me a saying that captures this survival instinct: ‎“يلي بيزوّج أمي بقِلّو عمي” — “The one who marries my mother, I call him uncle.” In Levantine culture, you don’t call a stepfather “dad”; you call him “uncle”: polite, respectful, but emotionally distant. It’s a metaphor for how many Syrians relate to rulers: not out of loyalty, but necessity. Allegiance becomes a performance, not a belief. Fear-based regimes thrive on symbols. Leaders turn into deities on billboards, flags, and walls, offering forced loyalty and a fragile illusion of safety. And when power shifts, people adapt again, with the same fear and survival mechanisms lingering, but this time within a different system…

Yesterday marked one year since I finished Project Africa: 16 months of cycling from Cairo to Cape Town. A journey that became part of my identity. I now get introduced as “this is Roberto, he cycled across Africa.” Whether we like it or not, we end up being defined by our actions 😂 The trip wasn’t life-changing in the dramatic way I expected. It was more of a magnifier, amplifying everything that was already shifting inside me. Still, it was the best thing I’ve ever done. I met insanely inspiring people, increased my awareness towards the world’s problems and potential, and pushed myself physically more than ever. I also found myself wrestling with big questions: the meaning of home, what values I truly hold, the reality of life on the road, what ideals I pursue… By the end, I wasn’t burnt out from cycling or the long lack of comfort zone, but rather from the mental load of deciding every single moment for 16 months what to film, what not to film, and what to share. Social media is part of my job: I chase curiosity, then try to share my discoveries in a way that adds value. But it’s a tough balance. That’s partly why I’ve barely posted in the past year. There’s also pressure to be consistent, to grow, and to serve a bigger audience with content that’s more than “look how cool this landscape is” or “check out how cool my life is”. I want to post things that spark curiosity, educate, and inspire change about misunderstood people, places, and cultures. But that takes time. And that’s what I’ve been doing behind the scenes: learning, improving, becoming a better storyteller and researcher. Taking things more seriously, more intentionally. Making sense of it all. Project Africa made me addicted to travel. I’m now back on the road, this time sucked into documenting a very time-sensitive project in Syria, that I’ve been covering since the fall of the old regime. I’ve put editing a bit on hold to focus on deep understanding, exploration, and research. But Project Africa isn’t forgotten. Later this year, I’ll be releasing ~20 long-form videos. The full series. Oh, and a book too :) Thanks for caring about the work I put out. It means the world ❤️

🇸🇾 I’ve spent 7 weeks in the new Syria so far in 2025. What began as a short 5-day trip turned into 4 returns, and soon, I’m heading back for the fifth time. 🎥 I’ve been filming and editing a docu-series almost entirely solo, 314 hours of it so far… soon to be released progressively. I’ve seen and witnessed unbelievable things there, some never documented before, and I’m pumped to share them with you… 💥 As I grew up in Lebanon, Syria always loomed just beyond the Anti-Lebanon mountains — vast, mysterious, and off-limits. At 11, I started hearing the echoes of a horrible war raging only 60 km from my home. But it wasn’t until this year that I truly understood what that war — and this land — were about. 👁️ Syria is where the modern world’s deepest wounds meet its oldest roots. A friend recently told me, “If you want to understand the world through power dynamics, geopolitics, ideology, and the human condition — start with Syria.” 🏛️ It’s just emerged from one of the most complex and destructive proxy wars in history. But it’s also the cradle of civilization, shaped by over 25 empires, home to cities turned to dust and people who’ve endured the unimaginable. The contrasts are staggering: sweeping geographical beauty and deep pain, cultural richness and brutal repression, resilience and ruin. 👤 I’ve lived with families from every background and social class, and spoken to hundreds of Syrians now free to share their stories for the first time in decades. From tribal sheikhs to priests, former jihadists to artists, athletes, entrepreneurs, shepherds… And no matter who I spoke to, one word about the old regime kept coming up: “Khof” — fear. 🕊️ But with Assad gone, there’s something new in the air: hope. A new flag. A new law. A country rebuilding from ashes — and reckoning with memory, trauma, and identity. ❤️ Syria doesn’t fit into a headline. And maybe that’s why it matters so much to go back. To keep listening. To go deeper. To try and tell it right. Even if it’s probably the most emotionally and physically taxing place I’ve been to. More soon.

We’re the only foreign visitors for hundreds of miles, standing alone in the vast, haunting ruins of Palmyra, Syria. Once a legendary Greco-Roman oasis, Palmyra thrived as a key Silk Road trade hub, famed for its grand colonnades, towering temples, and funerary towers. Stepping into a lost world of ancient grandeur and forgotten history in the middle of the Syrian desert with no tourist in sight is an experience like no other. A lot more on the city, its people, and its dark history coming up soon, in future videos 👀 Thanks to @morinasworld for this epic adventure 🙌🏼

In the final two months of last year, I made Georgia my home. Not the U.S. state, but rather that country by the Black Sea and the Caucasus. Quietly charming, rich in history, and breathtaking in its landscapes 🇬🇪 I was searching for an affordable base where I knew no one, a place to focus entirely on work, free from the distractions of Paris were I was living, and far from the devastationof the Israeli bombings in Lebanon, where I was supposed to be. Georgia had always intrigued me: steeped in ancient history, with majestic mountains and a quiet, enduring resilience. Rarely in the headlines, it’s a hidden gem waiting to be discovered by those willing to look. In Tbilisi, my daily life was calm and balanced: • Long runs 5 times a week in the biting cold, until my hands were numb. • Building a team and interviewing potential applicants as I took a leap in my career. • Weekly padel matches, a fun sport I grew fond of. • Weekend escapes to the mountains. • Trivia nights in old town bars, humbling my knowledge. • Falling in love with Tbilisi’s street dogs, as iconic here as cats in Istanbul. But while I settled into my routine, the political landscape painted a different picture. For centuries, Georgia has stood at the crossroads of East and West, both geographically and politically. Its Soviet past still casts a shadow, and recent unrest reflects the struggles of a young democracy. Protests erupted as Georgians, especially the youth, demanded freedom from imperialism and closer ties with Europe. I deeply admired their courage. Their fight for an independent, self-determined future resonated deeply, especially for someone like me, coming from a region often shaped by foreign powers. In the midst of it all, I made connections: new friends, locals, and travelers, sharing moments that made me grow attached to them. Yet I still wrestle with the concept of “home.” What does it mean to settle when you’re always moving? Is it where the people you love are, even if they’re scattered across the globe? I’m still searching for answers. In those two months, Georgia gave me peace, focus, and a renewed sense of wonder. Exactly what I needed to move forward in life.

It’s been six months since I left Africa, and I’ve been quiet on social media. Here’s what I’ve been up to. Adjusting to life post-Africa has been a journey. I went from 12h of sunlight daily for 18 months to barely 2, and from 8h of weekly workouts to just 1.5. Rebuilding a “normal” routine has been tough. At first, I felt unproductive. But looking back, I’ve actually used this time to learn, grow, and challenge myself differently. Back in Lebanon, I reconnected with friends, family, and nature. In late July, I was best man at a close friend’s wedding in Normandy and went diving in southern France. When war in Lebanon prevented my return, I stayed in France, turning the next three months into a transformative chapter. 🧘🏻‍♂️Vipassana Retreat: A 10-day silent meditation retreat practicing mindfulness and Buddhist techniques. It was one of the most introspective experiences of my life, deepened by the diverse people I met there. 🎭Theatre Internship: A week-long immersion at Cours Florent, focused on emotions and character work. Our teacher emphasized self-exploration over critique, which was deeply fulfilling. I formed quick, meaningful bonds with my group and saw incredible plays like Passport by Alexis Michalik and Parlons, il est Temps by Philippe Aractingi. 🖼️ Art Exhibitions: Exploring Paris’s museums is a delight, especially the surrealism exhibits. ✈️ Side Trips: In Belgium, met with friends and explored the European Parliament. In Bulgaria, I met locals and ventured into the mountains, marking my first Balkan experience. ❓Exploring Paris: Joined a community uncovering the city’s hidden corners, from rooftops to tunnels, seeing locked doors as invitations to adventure. 🚣🏿‍♀️Humanitarian Work: Worked with refugees in maraudes (humanitarian patrols). While the exploring was insightful, most of my time was spent indoors editing documentaries, researching, and laying the groundwork for my future company. Life is full of transitions, and maintaining momentum through learning and connecting while staying focused has been my greatest challenge. With Paris becoming distracting and expensive, I left for Georgia to refocus. More on that in the next post.

I'm in Beirut, Lebanon 🇱🇧 , for the holidays, spending time with family. Today, as part of my training, I set out to run a half marathon, taking in the ever-changing sights and contrasts this city has to offer. With my earphones on and sneakers laced, I stepped outside, capturing a few glimpses of the city. But my thoughts ran much deeper. I counted 36 collapsed houses, their ruins revealing pianos, desks, and toilets, draped with flags of Amal and Hezbollah, the two Shia political parties. The streets were plastered with posters of martyrs and images of Hassan Nasrallah. Just 200 meters from my house, I even came across an unexploded Israeli weapon found by a janitor. Any ballistic specialists want to weigh in? Amidst this chaos, I dodged street cats, navigated around overflowing sewer puddles, and avoided motorcycles driving against traffic...all while listening to S-Town, a true-crime NYT podcast about the life, genius, and struggles of an eccentric horologist in conservative Alabama. I passed ساحة النجمة, a square sealed off for years, shocked to find it open. I ran by mosques, churches, military checkpoints, and the city’s patchwork of new buildings and shops coexisting with bullet-riddled ruins. Beirut is full of contrasts. A few kilometers later, as if nothing, expats back for the holidays talking under the winter sun about where they'll party next in Gemmayzeh, a neighborhood in constant flux, with new restaurants opening while others shut their doors. But also some timeless classics like the bar where I first got tipsy on arak at 15, learning the hard way that drinking on an empty stomach is a bad idea. I fell just 1.6km short of completing the half marathon: my right knee gave out with 7 kilometers left. I limped the rest of the way, shivering and sweating, realizing a single banana isn’t enough fuel for a run. Now, as I write this with a throbbing knee and a head full of questions, I’m trying to process everything: the sights, smells, emotions, and absurdity of life here. I love Beirut, I hate Beirut. In just two hours, I was flooded with a cocktail of contradictions, and I’m left wondering: what the hell do we do with it all?

@explorob dives into his methodology for raising awareness. I personally love his tripod analogy and how it relates to online storytelling.