In spite of the Holiday title, this is a spray of acute to cockeyed impressions delivered in entertaining and mildly opportunistic prose which somehow avoids hyperbole. Mr. Lucas has succeeded in giving the impression that the Indonesia he observed is ""the ultimate total experience."" In East Java he witnessed the performance of kuda kepang (the horse trance) when he was toppled from his seat on the stage by a half-crazed dancer; he at first luxuriates in Bali but it's ""too hot. . . too damned sexy."" He witnesses tourists sweat through a jungle jam session and sightsees (""If you've seen one damn tooth-filing you've seen them all""). The most clammy adventure involves a visit to the Bataks and in two hostile communities he is introduced as a Christian priest in a ""rather exotic outpost of Christianity,"" where family bones are taken out periodically to be polished. Throughout Mr. Lucas is bedeviled by fatigue, stomach cramps, unsavory views of the local insect life and food (""There's a dish of sheep eyes that keeps looking my way""), and moments of extreme disease. Bizarre.