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I’m sick of the Louvre and decide to leave. I don’t really want the Pyramid exit, but it’s the only one I can find other than one that leads into a mall. My feet are killing me, so rather than walk a long ways to the wrong exit, I ask a security guard in the courtyard where Palais Royal is. He points to the whole giant area of the Louvre, and says, “THIS is Palais Royal” in French. Voila!, I immediately feel like an idiot tourist. (Palais Royal is another name for the Louvre.) You have to understand how completely huge and prominent the Louvre is. It’s like, I dunno, 5 city blocks square, sort of the equivalent to standing under the Eiffel Tower and asking where it is. My face flushes, but I smile, then clarify: “Palais Royal Metro.” Ahh, he points me in the right direction and off I go. Duh!
Seriously Paris 
And now you must go to Fountainbleu and see another Palais Royal that is also
a residence of Napoleon.
Monsieur Paul also recommended Fountainbleu. I picked up a brochure this week at the Paris Tourism Office while I was getting my museum pass. I’ve got to get over to Versailles, too, but I am waiting for a cooler day. And I hate doing things involving the trains. I always find them so confusing at the stations, even the RER. When I took the RER B to Jardin du Luxembourg, it arrived under the sign that said D. There were no signs that said B. And when I tried to take the RER C to the D’Orsay, the people at Invalides did not speak English, but had me follow some footprints on the floor to a bus stop. Since I didn’t know how the bus lines work, nor which one I wanted, I ended up walking all the way to the D’Orsay, and it was a long walk on sore feet.