In our series, Growing Up Irish we chat with Irish people of note on their upbringing in Ireland and how it shaped them into the person they are today.
Actress and businesswoman Aoibhín Garrihy might have grown up in Dublin, but it’s the west of Ireland that brings her the most peace. With both of her parents originally from county Clare, Aoibhín says that most of her childhood memories are tied to the county. Coming full circle, Aoibhín now lives in county Clare and shares just what the landscape and slower pace of life mean to her.
Where did you grow up and how would you describe that place to someone who has never been before?
I grew up in Castleknock in Dublin, right beside the Phoenix Park – which always felt like something really special to have on your doorstep. It’s one of the largest enclosed parks in Europe, full of wide open spaces, old trees and lots of deer roaming freely, and as a child it felt almost magical. I went to school in Mount Sackville, a wonderful school just beside the park, and so much of my childhood memories are tied to that area – the seasons changing around us, and feeling connected to something bigger than yourself even at a young age. Although we were very much in Dublin, there was a strong sense of nature and calm woven into everyday life.
School played a huge role in shaping me too. Mount Sackville was rich in culture, community and tradition – from sport to music, drama and a strong sense of togetherness. There were incredible women who influenced me there, teachers and mentors who encouraged creativity, confidence and ambition. Looking back, it was a place that nurtured both education and curiosity, and allowed interests to grow naturally. It felt grounding, inspiring and safe – a really beautiful place to spend those formative years.
What’s your earliest memory of growing up in Ireland?
Some of my earliest and strongest memories are tied to the west of Ireland. My parents are both from County Clare – one from Doolin and the other from Bell Harbour, right in the heart of the Burren – and that landscape, and way of life, was always part of my childhood.
We spent so much time there growing up: long weekends, school holidays and especially summers visiting grandparents and cousins. Those trips west felt like a different rhythm of life – slower, richer, and deeply rooted in place. I have very vivid memories of being in my grandparents’ house, where there was always music, conversation and storytelling. It was warm, welcoming and full of character.
The Aran Islands featured heavily too – long summer days, salty air, freedom to roam, and a real sense of tradition and community. Looking back, those moments shaped my understanding of Ireland as something more than just a place – it was a feeling of belonging, connection and culture, passed down through family and shared experiences.
What did being Irish mean to you when you were young – and has that meaning changed over time?
Being Irish was something I probably inherited from my parents and something my parents carried with them even when moving away from their home place – a broader, richer sense of place shaped by heritage, culture, music and community. They never left that sense of place, home and Irishness behind. It stayed with them and in turn us. It formed a kind of quiet certainty about who they were and where they came from. Over time, that meaning has deepened rather than changed. What once felt instinctive now feels intentional. Being Irish is no longer just about where you’re from, but about how you live – valuing connection, authenticity, humour and a strong sense of place. It’s something I feel more rooted in than ever, and something I carry with pride.
Are there any particularly Irish traditions in your family?
Interestingly, the traditions that come to mind for me are mostly religious – even though I wouldn’t necessarily describe our family as particularly religious in a regimental sense. They’re more gentle, instinctive rituals that have always been part of how we show care for one another.
Things like Mom sprinkling holy water on our foreheads before a long journey, or placing a holy medal in the sun visor of the car for safety. Blessing ourselves when passing a church, a graveyard or an ambulance. Lighting a candle when someone has something heavy on their mind, or something they’re quietly hoping will work out.
There’s also something very Irish in how these traditions show up in modern ways – Dad sending a link to “O Mary, We Crown Thee with Blossoms Today” on YouTube on the first of May to our family Whatsapp group , sharing a picture of the St Brigid’s Day cross on the 1st February every year or marking moments not with big gestures but with small, meaningful acts.
They’re rituals rooted in love and connection I suppose – and for me, they feel deeply Irish in their simplicity in everyday life.
How do you carry Ireland with you when you’re not at home?
I think we carry Ireland with us through humour more than anything else. There’s something very Irish about finding the funny in moments when travelling abroad or away from home. Our humour seems to come to the fore when we’re away, and almost amplifies; the small observations, the shared looks, the comments that only other Irish people will catch.
There’s a particular comfort in that – recognising little moments that feel familiar, or spotting the absurdity in situations and having a laugh about it. And of course, there’s always the cúpla focal. Dropping a few Irish words into a sentence, sometimes to say something that maybe isn’t meant for everyone else’s ears, or just to feel instantly connected to home.
That sense of craic, of not taking ourselves too seriously, is something I notice most when I’m away. No matter where you are in the world, Ireland has a way of showing up with you.
What’s the most Irish thing about you?
Probably my name. It’s not the easiest to pronounce once you’re outside Ireland, and it often triggers a conversation.
Beyond that, I’ve always felt a deep connection to my ancestors and to where I come from. Growing up in Dublin and now finding myself living in County Clare feels like a full-circle moment. There’s a strong pull there – to the land, to a slower pace of life, and to a way of being that feels deeply rooted and authentic.
As I’ve gotten older, I find myself naturally leaning towards what feels truly ours – Irish stories, Irish culture, Irish rhythms. There’s a comfort and a confidence in embracing that. It feels like honouring where you come from, and trusting that when you lean into your truth, it resonates far beyond home.
