You’re almost there! If you look slightly to your left along Sayat-Nova Avenue, you’ll spot a low, modern building with a colorful mosaic running right above the big glass windows. That’s your sign-those cheerful puppet-like figures in yellow hats lined up under a bright painted sun aren’t just decorations, they’re the parade calling you in! The building itself is almost hugging the sidewalk, with a lot of playful energy. If you see old wooden signs up above and a few balloons and bright letters near the benches, you’re at the right place.
Now, picture this: it’s 1935, and Yerevan is still a small city growing into itself. Suddenly, on a quiet street, a group of artists and dreamers decide the city needs more than politics and stone-kids (and adults) need magic, laughter, and a little bit of puppet mayhem! So, the Hovhannes Tumanyan Puppet Theatre is born-opened by the unstoppable Sofia Bejanyan and her band of puppet-loving friends. Their only competition? String tangles and accidental nose-dives (trust me, puppets aren’t known for their grace under pressure).
The very first director, Varia Stepanyan, somehow wrangled not just marionettes, but the whole show into gear. And in 1938, they named it after the famous writer Hovhannes Tumanyan-a master of stories, perfect for a theatre where everything talks with a squeaky voice. The theatre had its ups and downs; in the 1950s, it went dark for nearly seven years. But, rather than leave puppets weeping in the attic, Yervand Manaryan swooped in like a hero and put them back on stage in 1957.
Every corner you see here, every window and bench, sits on a hundred puppet adventures-think flying carpets, accidental pie fights, heartfelt tearjerkers, and, of course, grumpy ogres whose biggest weakness seems to be tickles. Inside, you’ll find the Pavlos Boroyan Puppet Museum, which is really a puppet paradise-more noses, mustaches, and string-tangled legs than you could count in a month!
So, stand here for a moment and listen-can you almost hear the giggles, the clacking of puppet shoes, and the whispers of a thousand tiny wooden voices? That’s the heart of Armenian theatre, right at your feet. Just promise you won’t get too attached to the puppets… they tend to steal the show-and sometimes your hat!
