I have had a number of small scale but absolutely lovely experiences in Italy. My experiences are totally anecdotal, however, and not meant to be any sort of authoritative overall view of the country.
They include:
Stopping for directions in a small town square and ending up in the middle of a caricature of a vignette that featured a flock of townspeople engaging in multiple, simultaneous heated arguments involving raised voices and tons of arm waving and other gestures that you just couldn't make up if you tried.
Passing through small villages nestled in the side of the mountain wherein the most disreputable looking guy in the entire place would be the policeman with the three day old beard and the open shirt sprawled back on a chair lazily sunning himself without a care on the world.
People in those same villages who would spit contemptuously and tell you, "The Romans, splurrt, they never conquered us!"
Leaving Italy at the (then) Yugoslavian border, with the train stopped at two in the morning, everyone being made to get off the train by stern, unfriendly, AK-47 toting border guards as some Arab guy earnestly tries to get you to "just hold this package for me."
The hulking, ancient Colosseum enduring modern day Rome right up against it. Just, wow.
Folllowing a crazy, pissed motorbike renter who spoke note perfect English in a southern accent, to the point where we thought he had to be American until the phone rang and he switched to rapid fire Italian, as he bombed through crowded urban intersections at night after the light had turned red and cross traffic had started to move, because we'd got lost and were late returning his bikes and he had to come get us.
Getting searched at the border and having the Italian border policeman helpfully explain to me that it wasn't particularly wise for me to have the vivid Italian Communist poster I'd liberated . . . because I was an American. He wasn't on any power trip, he was really trying to be helpful, you know, in case I didn't know!
Experiencing the mish-mash of German and Italian language, grammar and culture in the South Tyrol in Northern Italy.
Harvesting teeny tiny "wild" strawberries on an organic farm in a manner that couldn't possibly have been even remotely cost efficient.
And a ton more, which don't do much for the fact-seeking observer, but evoke warm fuzzies in me of the about the many times I traveled through Italy during my 4 and 1/2 year sojourn through Europe. <shrug>